


Negotiations

by B_eden



Category: Benjaminutes - Fandom, The Riftdale Chronicles (Web Series)
Genre: Bad Touch, Confusion, Daddy Issues, Drug Use, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Gentle Sex, Healing, Hostage Situation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Games, Mind-fuckery, Obsession, Rough Sex, Stalking, disturbingly tender sex at times, emotional fulfillment, hurting, romantic sex, stockholm's syndrome, stranger danger, threatened rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 16:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17901620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_eden/pseuds/B_eden
Summary: What if things went down differently the night Chief and Smith walked in on Christian, and Christian easily got the upper hand? After a night of horribly tormenting the two cops, Christian becomes distracted with a fascination over the dynamics of the two. Meanwhile, Chief struggles with his own desires for Smith as he tries to comfort the kid after what happens to them. Christian realizes Chief holds some kind of key to what Christian really wants in his own relationship with his hostage, Bart, and in his life in general; if only Christian can pick the cops apart enough to find out just what that is without getting himself arrested or killed, or killing someone else in the process. Chief gets as deep in Christian’s head as Christian gets into his own mind, and Christian finds the cop is far more dangerous than he first thought. Will they all survive this wild ride?Read the trigger warnings, guyz. My stuff usually gets dark before I drag it back into the light so y'all can buzz off that adrenaline high.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you aren’t in love with The Riftdale Chronicles web series on youtube then you are missing out on some genuine good quality content and you need to obsess over it right now! Go! I love it so much! And this fanfiction is apparently what I do to the things I love. Shit I’m so messed up. Please love me anyway. 
> 
> Also! I want to write so much more about this fandom but I keep having writer’s block. Give me suggestions on what pairings or situations you’d like to read more about!

Chief glared across the basement to where Smith was handcuffed to a sturdy pipe along the opposite wall. He didn’t mean to make the dependent kid think he was angry with _him_ rather than the situation. Chief realized he was frowning at his partner when Smith dared another glance up and winced before aiming his eyes back to his lap.

 

 

“Chief? I’m sorry.” Smith’s shoulders sank lower as he sighed. His eye patch was slightly askew, but he managed to right it with a quick nuzzle against his arm. “You were right. I should have listened to you. This is all my fault.”

 

 

They had run into the serial killer con man priest, Chief had forgotten his gun again, and Smith had drawn his weapon. He had insisted on trying to talk sense into Christian, though, because he really thought the criminal deserved a second chance. One thing led to another, and Smith dropped his gun. It slid right over to the serial killer. The priest had moved them to another, more secure location, and here they were.

 

 

Smith had really thought for a minute there that the criminal was just going to abandon them; let them go. Smith thought everyone deserved a second chance. Chief hated the priest for that alone; for Smith’s despondent acceptance that he’d failed.

 

 

Now wasn’t the time for I-told-you-so’s. They were probably going to die. No, they were going to die. Chief knew better than to believe anything different. There was no point in sending the kid to his grave wallowing in a sense of fear and failure. Chief knew what he needed to do now, and that was to put on a brave face and act like there was hope. He was going to lie to the kid.

 

 

“L-look, Chief. I-I know you’re disappointed-”

 

 

Chief sighed. “No, Smith. I’m not disappointed in you at all. You did good, kid. I’ve told you before. You’re a great cop.”

 

 

Chief’s heart warmed when Smith looked up hopefully and smiled brightly. The contrast of the cheerful countenance was striking against the dim light and the stained, damp wall just behind him.

 

 

Smith’s voice was chipper now. “So, how are we gonna get out of this one, Chief?” His alert features were waiting so patiently for Chief to answer him as the hardened cop mastered himself from tears. The kid thought he was a god. It didn’t cross Smith’s mind that he could get himself into a situation that Chief couldn’t save him from. Smith’s brows knit insecurely when Chief didn’t answer him. “We can get out of this? Right?”

 

 

Chief closed his eyes for several seconds, and when he opened them again, he was forcing relaxed features. “Yeah, kid. And look, maybe you’re right about this guy. Did you see how upset he was when he realized he’d lost his hostage? He has us now, so why would he have lost his composure so hard about the other guy getting away unless he’d become attached to him? That right there shows he can form attachments, and attachments make people self-reflect over their actions when those actions cause the ones they care about to distance from them.”

 

 

“Hey! You’re right! Chief, you’re so smart! You never miss anything!” Smith relaxed greatly and wriggled around until he was lying on his back with his arms over his head as if it didn’t occur to him that the position would leave him highly vulnerable. “I didn’t even look at it that way! I bet that guy was like a friend to him!”

 

 

Chief exhaled in relief as the kid took the bait. “And look, he musta liked something about the way you believed in him, and how you talked about him having friends. I mean, he stuck me over here on the concrete for being an asshole but put you over there on a comfortable, warm pallet.” Chief was not going to consider what other connotations the placement might have. All the victim’s bodies they’d found had never been sexually abused, so he hoped to god he could safely assume that kind of crime wasn’t the priest’s thing.

 

 

Chief’s face fell when they heard the basement door open followed by the heavy footfalls of Christian’s combat boots. One arm dangled at his side as he fiddled with the safety on the gun. His feet hit the concrete, and he dragged the sleeve of his other arm along his drug-abused nose. A small cloud of cocaine crumbled down his shirt while far too much remained on his face. He didn’t look at them as he moved toward a shelf. His hand clamped onto a canister of gasoline, dragged it off the shelf, and he immediately turned back to the stairs.

 

 

Chief groaned in annoyance when Smith spoke to the criminal in his rosy tone. “Why don’t you just talk to him? Your hostage?” Christian froze with his foot on the bottom step. “Maybe you could call him, or just go see him? I’ll bet he’d listen to you if you just tell him how you really feel about him!”

 

 

“Smith! Keep quiet!” Chief hissed. He held his breath when the criminal went too long without continuing on his way and it became clear he’d been somehow affected by Smith’s words. Chief hoped his own admonishment of the kid would be enough to sate the priest.

 

 

Christian slowly sat the gasoline on the step, and then he turned to Smith with a dark scowl. “You’re encouraging me to go after my hostage.” It was more of a statement than a question, as if Smith needed someone to point it out to him, and he was annoyed to be the one to have to do this.

 

 

“Maybe he’ll choose to come back if you don’t force it?” Smith suggested, trying his best to envision a friendship rainbow that might engulf the serial killer and bleed a measure of hope into Christian’s spirits. “I know it probably feels safer to force someone to stay with you, but wouldn’t it be so much better if you knew he was your friend by choice instead of fear?”

 

 

“No one’s going to just fucking choose to stay around me, you fucking idiot.”

 

 

“Hey!” Chief didn’t stop himself in time. “You respect the man when he talks to you!”

 

 

They both ignored him as Smith beamed. “That’s not true! I’m sure you’re a real cuck when someone really gets to know you!”

 

 

Christian’s shoulders softened even though his frown deepened. The stupid kid actually thought cuck meant ‘fucking cool’. “Why don’t I fucking show you what a cuck is. Where do you live? You married? Got a girlfriend?” His eyes skirted between the two cops as he silently asked Chief if they were together. Chief shook his head in warning.

 

 

“Of course not, silly!” Smith’s laugh was musical, and he really didn’t see the connection between relationship status and cool status. “Cops aren’t allowed to get married. It’s illegal! That’s why Chief says he isn’t married, anyway. Right, Chief?” The cuffs clinked as Smith tried to point gun-fingers at him while talking. The kid had started doing the gesture after seeing Chief do it, only now Smith did it constantly in a desperate attempt to be like Chief.

 

 

Christian opened his mouth to corrupt the kid’s ears and explain what a cuck was, but then Chief interrupted him with a warning growl. “Waaaatch it...”

 

 

Christian’s sunken eyes settled on Chief. It was clear to the experienced cop that the criminal was taking far too many observant notes about the both of them for every second that he remained in their presence. He wished the guy would just get back up the stairs already before he wound up coming right out and suggesting the two were sleeping together. He didn’t even know how to explain something like that to the kid without him pelting him with a million awkward questions that would span the course of weeks. Not that they were likely to live that long now. He still didn’t want to spend their last moments together either scaring him or fixing whatever the priest said to scare him. Why couldn’t Smith have just let the bastard walk away?

 

 

Christian eyes remained on him for too long as he clenched his fist. “It’s your fault he left.”

 

 

Chief bristled. “Do you even hear yourself? He left because he was a goddamn hostage and he was terrified for his life. He needed to get away from you before you lost your temper and murdered him. That’s the problem with scum like you. You don’t even consider how what you do affects other people. Everything’s about what you want. If you want to know why nobody likes you, asshole, why no one will stay with you, take a good look in the mirror.”

 

 

Chief wasn’t afraid of how Christian’s teeth were gnashing or how his hand was tightening on the gun. He knew how this was eventually going to go down, and he was ready for it. If he pissed him off enough, maybe Christian would turn around and kill Smith quickly and mercifully to hurt Chief, and then the kid wouldn’t have to suffer through any of this. Maybe he wouldn’t even see it coming.

 

 

“I’m gonna make you eat those words, old man.”

 

 

“Fat chance,” Chief rumbled.

 

 

“In fact.” Christian’s jaw relaxed, and it was somehow more disturbing than if he’d started waving the gun around. “I’m going to make you so sorry for talking to me like that, that you’re going to apologize, and then you’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

 

 

Chief’s frown stayed in place even while he blinked rapidly as the threat blindsided him. Chief glanced to Smith when the kid made a strangled noise before his mouth dropped open in shock. Chief was sorry for instinctively looking to Smith to assess his reaction because the quick slip gave the criminal everything he needed to know.

 

 

Christian’s voice was low. “That kid’s gonna see you in a whole new fucking light after hearing you beg for me, and I’m going to enjoy watching you fall from grace.”

 

 

“Yeah. Good luck with that.” Chief was smug. Let the bastard torture him. He could take it.

 

 

Christian held his glare unflinching. “You know what? I actually have plenty of time for this right now.” The priest turned and went to stand over Smith’s legs. Smith looked up at him with a hesitant smile as Christian’s gun-hand jittered at his side while he thought on his next move.

 

 

“Smith.” Chief’s voice was gentle. “Look away, kid.”

 

 

“Why would I do that? He just said he’s got plenty of time to talk this through. Right?” Smith’s eyes followed Christian as he moved to lean back against the wall. The priest slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the pallet about where Smith’s ankles rested. “He’s even setting his gun to the side! See, it’s okay, Chief!” The light in Smith’s eyes only flickered for a heartbeat when Christian withdrew a knife instead.

 

 

Christian’s voice was full of sarcasm, but Smith didn’t seem to register it at all. “Yeah, Chief. We’re just going to have a little talk.” Christian’s head rested back against the wall as he returned Chief’s stare. Chief looked far more hesitant now. “And if you keep your eyes on us while we talk, Chief, the conversation won’t hurt as bad. You look away, though, and this talk is going to get very painful.”

 

 

Chief wasn’t exactly sure what he was hearing, but his breaths were coming faster now as he tried not to let his mind file down through an endless list of paperwork he’d filled out over the years that offered up a plethora of possibilities as to where this was going.

 

 

“Wow.” Smith hummed. “You really need some good old fashion caring attention if it will hurt you so bad if we don’t look at you. It’s okay, though, buddy. I know I don’t mind being a shoulder to lean on, and I’m sure Chief will pay attention since you’ve made it so very clear that’s what you need. Right Chief?”

 

 

Chief’s voice was distant as Christian’s wolfish eyes stayed pinned on him while Smith spoke so cluelessly. “That’s right, kid.”

 

 

“We’re making good progress here!” Smith started to slide his legs away so he could sit up, but he gasped when Christian sat the knife to the side, grabbed his ankles, and pulled his feet right back into place only to rest them in his lap this time. Smith’s brows knit in confusion when Christian pulled off his shoes, and then his socks. “Th-that’s, um, much more comfortable. Thank you!”

 

 

Christian’s hand landed on Smith’s ankle, and he pressed his pant leg up a few inches. He then warmed his hand over the top of Smith’s foot far too gently as if he was about to give him a goddamn foot massage. He pressed the palm of his other hand on his heel and applied enough pressure for it not to tickle as he ran it along the bottom of his foot. He continued to stare Chief down as he did, indeed, start to rub the cop’s feet.

 

 

“So, you’re one of those kinda guys, eh?” Chief spat, but it only caused Christian’s lip to curl as if he’d considered smirking.

 

 

“I’m just going to take my time finding out what kind of guy _he_ is, is all.”

 

 

“I’m a cop kind of guy!” Smith proclaimed innocently.

 

 

Christian arched a brow, and Chief felt sick as the serial killer started making a habit of sharing inside jokes with him at Smith’s expense. Christian didn’t do much to alert Smith of just how perverse he’d taken his words to be. “You’re a cop kind of guy, huh? I wouldn’t doubt that. The way he hangs on your every word, there. Chief. You a cop kind of guy too?”

 

 

Chief looked away as Christian expertly plucked at his inner demons. Was it that obvious that Chief held darker desires for the kid? Chief’s eyes flew back to them when Smith yelped sharply. Christian’s eyes were still on him, drinking in every falter in Chief’s facade as the criminal’s fingers dug into Smith’s foot again to make him cry out in a combination of laughter and pain. The threat was a clear reminder that Chief wasn’t to take his eyes off them.

 

 

Christian’s hand smoothed along his foot as if to apologize as his other hand reached for his knife. Smith didn’t have the sense to so much as stiffen when Christian flicked open the blade, but Chief visibly flinched. It didn’t seem like the kid even considered that the serial killer meant to put something sharp against him. Chief’s eyes moved rapidly between the knife and Christian’s eyes as the criminal lowered it against Smith’s skin and began to drag it across his toes.

 

 

“Smith.” Chief swallowed heavily. “Don’t move.”

 

 

“That tickles!” Smith grinned wide as he fought not to start dancing in place.

 

 

“Smiiiiith...be still...” Chief cursed when the kid began to pull against the cuffs. “Smith! He’s got a knife to you, kid!”

 

 

“A knife? But-”

 

 

“But nothing, Smith.” He tried to keep the panic from his voice and replaced it with a firm, commanding tone. “It’ll only take thirty minutes for you to bleed out and die if he gets an artery down there. Hold still.”

 

 

Smith looked down, but Christian tucked the knife out of his sight. “He’s not holding the knife on me, silly! He’s just rubbing my feet because he feels bad that he’s been forced to have to tie us up. That’s all! I really think we’re making progress here! We’re team building!” Smith’s head dropped back to look up at the ceiling as he continued to stay in denial that a stranger rubbing his feet was highly inappropriate in any case. He hummed when Christian dragged his nails down the top of his foot to scratch him. “That feels kind good...”

 

 

Chief’s heart hammered in his chest as Christian returned the blade to hover over the dry white lines he’d left with his nails. If he cut him now, the blade would go through like butter and Smith would think he was just using his nails again. He wouldn’t even know he was being cut until his skin had been opened significantly. Chief closed his eyes as the knife connected.

 

 

Smith starting cackling violently, and Chief could hear fabric rustling as his feet kicked against Christian’s legs and the covers. Chief’s lids flew open to see that Christian was only petting his foot to calm him from where he’d tickled him again. Chief’s eyes searched his as the criminal went back to massaging the sensitive limbs. The bastard was playing with his food like a cat.

 

 

“Last warning, old man. Eyes over here. We on the same page?” When Chief nodded solemnly, Christian shifted his attention to Smith. “Hey, kid. What size pants you wear?” Smith answered him, and then chuckled as he informed him it sure was a random question. “Well, you see. I got a friend who’s so, so poor, see? And he could really use a new pair of pants. You seem like a nice guy, and like you have plenty clothes at home.” Smith sucked in his stomach when Christian’s hand landed on the fastenings of his pants. He began to open them. “I figured you wouldn’t mind giving him yours. Just this once.”

 

 

“Oh!” Smith’s suspenders slackened on his shoulders and fell away. “W-well...” His eyes shifted nervously for only a heartbeat as a fleeting instinct to sense danger fired across his brain, but then he decided to accept the con man’s story. “Sure thing!”

 

 

Chief’s lungs felt like they were crumbling into powder as he watched the criminal drag Smith’s pants down his legs and drop them in a pile at the end of the pallet. Smith was wearing a pair of boxers that matched the kind he had seen Chief buy. Was there anything the kid’s eyes didn’t see him do that he sought to mimic? Chief cursed himself for his drinking habit and swore he would stop if they somehow made it through this. Chief felt as naive as his partner as he struggled to convince himself this wasn’t going where it looked like it was going.

 

 

The serial killer looked back to Chief when Smith so easily allowed him to remove his pants; even lifting his hips to make it easier for him. He could have ripped his clothes off without the manipulation, but he knew that every reminder of the kid’s trusting and optimistic nature was killing Chief inside. It was a game for him to see just how long it would take the kid to catch onto what was happening to him, and Chief was an unwilling participant in furthering that ignorance for as long as possible.

 

 

Chief relaxed slightly when Christian settled in alongside of Smith instead of moving right to his implied deed. The priest propped his head on one hand so that he could see Chief over the kid’s body. Christian frowned at Smith for a time as the kid tilted his head to the side to observe him patiently like it wasn’t weird for him that their faces were only inches apart.

 

 

“If you want to get some sleep, I can share the pillow, or you can have it, and I can sit up for a while.” Smith could only assume that’s why the criminal was now lying next to him. Though, why he was looking at him like that, he wasn’t completely sure. “Are you tired?”

 

 

“Something like that.” Christian watched Smith’s eye widen when he raised the knife to show it to him. He enjoyed the confused stammer when he lowered the knife to Smith’s shirt and popped the top button free. The kid looked down at himself with increasing trepidation as the criminal’s hand moved along ridding him of one button after another. The lower he went, the more he began to hyperventilate, until his chest and stomach were vibrating violently.

 

 

“Smith.” Chief encouraged. “Try to be still. You’re...you’re doing good, kid.”

 

 

“I-I am?” The cuffs were rattling noisily. “W-why are you doing th-that?”

 

 

Christian glanced up at the other cop before looking back to his task. “Ask Chief why I’m doing this to you.”

 

 

“Chief?”

 

 

“Because he’s a bad guy, Smith. Watch it!” Chief warned when his words caused Christian to twirl the knife dangerously over Smith’s abdomen before he snapped away the last button.

 

 

Christian tucked the knife to the side and moved his hand back toward Smith’s shirt. He froze hovering his hand over Smith’s shirt collar when Chief spoke again.

 

 

“Okay.” Chief’s voice was dry. “I’m sorry. I’m apologize for saying shitty things to you. It was uncalled for. It was unfair.”

 

 

Christian traced his finger down along the cloth without yet opening it to expose the kid’s skin. “And the other part?”

 

 

Chief scoffed. “What other part-”

 

 

“You’ll remember, old man. Probably sooner than later.” Christian drew his fingers along the shirt on one side, pushing it open.

 

 

“D-does your friend n-need a shirt, too?” Smith was looking down until Christian touched his chin to direct him to look at him. “B-because you c-cut the buttons off this one, so maybe we could go get a fresh one to-” He was cut off when Christian pressed his lips to his.

 

 

The serial killer allowed their skin to touch without deepening the kiss for quite some time as he watched the confusion in Smith’s overly-expressive face slowly meld into some semblance of understanding.

 

 

Smith’s voice was muffled as he whined against Christian’s mouth. “Chieeeeeeef...”

 

 

His entire body seized up when Christian took the opportunity of him speaking to slide his tongue past his lips. Smith’s mouth fell open in shock, which only allowed his seducer to further intrude on him. Smith tried to sink down, but Christian moved with him until he was as far as the cuffs would allow him to go. He whimpered helplessly and continuously as the priest’s tongue stroked along his. Chief fought violently against his restraints. 

 

 

After thoroughly swooning him, Christian pulled back to look at Smith’s flushed features before glancing down between his legs. His lip twitched in an arrogant and satisfied snarl as he confirmed that the confused kid had gotten hard from the forced intimacy. Christian’s attention shifted to Chief, who had stopped struggling. Chief’s eyes were pained as he watched Smith staring breathlessly at the ceiling while his entire body trembled.

 

 

“Ch-ch-chief? I th-think my negotiation skills m-might have been a little...too...too good.”

 

 

Chief’s heart broke. The kid was blaming himself for this already. “It’s not your fault, kid. You hear me?”

 

 

Chief’s eyes went back to Christian as the criminal smoothed the kid’s shirt further open and flattened his palm on his chest. Smith’s muscles twitched and goosebumps flared across his skin at the touch. He exhaled a shuddering breath.

 

 

“B-bad touch. Oh god. Bad touch. Chief? S-stranger danger. Bad touch. Stranger danger. Chief. H-h-help. Please. Chief...”

 

 

Christian groaned. “Ffffuck, yeah. This is going to be so fucking good, old man. I bet he’s going to call for you like that the whole time.” His thumb danced over Smith’s nipple, and when it caused the kid to start writhing and mewling, he moved to the other one.

 

 

Chief couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat as he choked out, “S-stop...”

 

 

“I don’t know. I think he’s into it.” Christian sat up and hoisted his leg over Smith’s hips to straddle him. He pressed his body down against him and splayed his hands along his chest. He glanced over to make sure Chief was still watching. He was closing his eyes and turning his face away again, so Christian clenched his hand around Smith’s throat until the kid was gasping and kicking.

 

 

“Okay! I’m looking! I’m looking, you bastard!” Chief was thankful that he at least sounded like he wasn’t crying now.

 

 

“I think he liked that, too.” Christian rolled his hips against him and Smith’s head thrashed back and forth as he fought the guilt of responding.

 

 

“Ch-Chief, I’m sorry-”

 

 

“You’re n-not doing anything wrong, kid. You’re doing good. It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay...”

 

 

Christian leaned down to kiss him again; far more consuming this time. He barely moved their lower halves together, but the slow, teasing press of contact was enough to make the kid quickly start falling apart. Smith’s eye rolled back, and he moaned wantonly. When Christian pulled back, Smith’s head lifted off the pillow to follow his mouth, and Christian growled in approval.

 

 

“Getting a little hard to pace myself here, Chief.” Christian’s expression was deceptively worshipful as he gently stroked a finger down the side of Smith’s face. “Holy fuck. He’s goddamn beautiful. This is fucking perfect. How in the fuck have you not done this already, old man?”

 

 

“Because I have self-control! Because I’m not an animal!” Chief couldn’t even hate the guy right now. He couldn’t afford to. Christian had his heart in his hands. He held all the cards right now. He was the only one who could stop the slow horror he was watching unfold in front of him. “I can appreciate innocence and love somebody who trusts me without having to destroy them.”

 

 

Christian paused, and his frown darkened. “You’re no better than me, old man.”

 

 

“No.” Chief shook his head as he agreed with him. “No, I’m not.”

 

 

Smith was completely lost. “Chieeef? I d-don’t know w-what to do...”

 

 

Christian hummed sympathetically. “I’ll tell you what to do, kid. Don’t worry about it. I won’t pretend I don’t want to fuck you like he does. I’ll show you just how much I want to split you open-”

 

 

“CHIEEEEF!”

 

 

Chief choked as he found himself desperately trying to talk the criminal down like Smith had wanted all along. “This isn’t really what you want!”

 

 

“Oh, it’s what I want.” Christian walked back on his knees, looking down at Smith’s body as he went.

 

 

“No, it’s not! You want your hostage! You fell for him! You didn’t mean to, but you couldn’t help it. You’re only goddamn human! That’s who you want-”

 

 

“This will have to do for now.”

 

 

Chief was cracking under the pressure. “Please! Just try it! Try to talk to him! J-just don’t hurt that kid! Please. Don’t. Hurt. That. Kid.”

 

 

Christian gripped the elastic of Smith’s boxers.

 

 

“CHIEF! OH GOD! WHAT DO I DO?! CHIEF! I DON’T WANNA! PLEASE! CHIEF! MAKE IT STOP!” Neither of them noticed when Christian hesitated.

 

 

“JESUS GOD OKAY! YOU WIN! STOP!” Chief exhaled shakily when Christian really did stop and looked at him expectantly. Chief’s chest was thudding so hard he was almost sure his heart was about to fail. He remembered exactly what Christian had told him he wanted to hear, but now he could only hope that it wasn’t another game; that it wasn’t too late, and the criminal would forgive him once he gave him what he’d asked for. “Take me instead. F-fuck me. Please fuck me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” He looked away in humiliation. “Please, fuck me.”

 

 

Christian sat back as he narrowed his eyes at Chief. He looked back to Smith. The kid hadn’t lost respect for the man. Chief did a double take when he looked back to them to find Smith looking at him like he was still his hero, though now somehow, he had been elevated to an even higher status.

 

 

Chief didn’t like the way Christian was still watching the kid so intensely, though. “Anything.” Chief swore his compliance again, and it worked to bring Christian’s eyes back to him. “Can you...can you get my whisky first, though?”

 

 

Christian was fascinated by this whole dynamic. He loathed how he kept mulling over their words in his head. He pushed to his feet with an irritated huff and pointed at Smith. “Turn away, kid.”

 

 

Smith looked to him as if he was some kind of nice guy now for not insisting that he watch the way he now understood Christian had been ordering Chief to watch. “Mr. Priest, sir? Please don’t hurt Chief.”

 

 

“Uh huh. Turn away. I don’t want your fucking naive eyes on me. Shit’s unnerving.”

 

 

“Do what he says, Smith.” Chief’s hands were shaking, and he didn’t even have the luxury of hiding them while they were pinned over his head. “Give me some dignity, here.”

 

 

Christian turned to look at the kid again when he burst into tears and rolled to his side. He looked back to Chief. The man’s jaw was locked, and his eyes had found a random place on the wall to give all his focus to.

 

 

Christian dropped to his knees and stuffed his hand into Chief’s pocket to fish out his flask. Chief shivered as he tried not to think of the criminal’s hands moving all over him with the same entitled confidence. Christian’s expression was unreadable as he put the flask to Chief’s lips and carefully tipped it as Chief tilted his head back. His eyes followed the motion of Chief’s throat as he swallowed.

 

 

“Breathe.” Christian’s voice was unrecognizably calm as he pulled the flask back a few inches when the cop started coughing. He studied the man as Chief watched him in return. When his eyes darted back to the flask, Christian released a short huff that almost sounded like there was humor in the noise before he obliged him and returned the flask. “You need the whole thing, old man?” He pulled it away and Chief gulped in air as he fought not to lose his composure.

 

 

Christian’s eyes shifted to the cop’s trembling hands, and Chief’s forehead fell against the wall as he accepted there was no way for him to hide his trepidation. He felt Christian’s hand on his belt, and he sucked in his stomach to make it easier for him to unclasp it.

 

 

“Lift up.” Christian’s brows rose when Chief did as he said and raised to his knees. He didn’t fight him as he pressed his pants open. He pushed them down to his knees. “You two have the same fucking underwear, you know that? Lie back.”

 

 

“You want me on my back?” Chief’s heart was thrumming dangerously again as he realized the psychopath meant to look at his face during. Of course, the monster would want to drink in all his discomfort.

 

 

“That a problem?”

 

 

“No.” Chief shifted onto his back and closed his eyes.

 

 

Christian murmured something unintelligible to himself and sat back on his heels to take in the sight of the man waiting for his instruction. Chief’s fists clenched when he felt Christian’s hands back on his pants, now at his knees, and he turned his head away as his lungs threatened to stop working. He really didn’t want the kid to hear him breathing in any kind of way while this was happening.

 

 

“Alright. Lift up.”

 

 

Chief assumed that the serial killer was going to pull down his boxers. Instead, he shoved his pants back up over his hips. He opened his eyes and blinked in confusion as Christian returned the zipper, and the button, and then his belt.

 

 

“Sit up. You’re alright. Sit up.” Christian took a small swig from the flask before offering it to the cop again. Chief drank even more greedily this time, but Christian didn’t comment on it as he made him stop to breathe at regular intervals.

 

 

Some distant part of Chief’s brain tried to tell him that he should be utterly impressed and completely terrified that this man was in the process of mentally mind-fucking the both of them right into Stockholm’s Syndrome. He was efficient with it. Thorough. Unnaturally fucking masterful at what he was doing. Chief knew he should hate him, but all he could feel at the moment was gratitude that he hadn’t gone through with raping the kid and that, for whatever reason, he was now looking at Chief like he somehow approved of something he was seeing. He was looking at Chief like he’d done a good job; as if Chief should give one flying fuck about what opinion this piece of shit had of him.

 

 

Christian wiggled the flask to confirm it was now empty. “You really like that fucking kid, don’t you.” It was more a statement than a question. “Maybe you have a talk with him about what cuck means. And all kinds of other things for that matter. Before someone else teaches him about the world. That kind of trust, old man. That look on his face all the time. It does things to bad guys.”

 

 

“I know.” Chief wasn’t going to tell him what all was wrong with what he was saying. He was too busy hating himself because his own impure thoughts about the kid had now increased tenfold.

 

 

Christian’s frown was progressively deepening, but it didn’t seem to be in response to anything the cops were or weren’t doing this time. He sighed noisily and rubbed his head as if it was aching now that he wasn’t engaged in some kind of adrenaline-inducing activity for the span of a few seconds.

 

 

Chief swallowed heavily when Christian stood and moved back toward the other cop. “Here, kid. Roll on your back. I’m gonna put your pants back on.” Chief almost panicked when Smith simply believed him, but then Christian was really doing what he said.

 

 

“There are three possible outcomes here,” Christian began as he dressed the kid. One: My hostage will reject me, in which case I will come back here, rape the both of you, and then shoot you both in the stomach so you can watch each other slowly die.”

 

 

Smith’s eyes lit up despite the threat, because he was Smith, and Smith saw only the best in people. Smith was only hearing that Christian was going to try and talk to his friend. Before he could comment on it, Christian continued.

 

 

“Two: He won’t reject me, but I’ll be able to tell it’s just because of Stockholm’s Syndrome and not really because it’s his choice to be with me. In that case, I’ll keep him with me and go back to what I was doing before you two assholes messed up my plans. I’ll leave you here to rot. But hey, maybe your fucking buddies in blue will manage to find you before you die of thirst.” He patted Smith’s hip and tossed a blanket over him as if he was just that caring of a guy.

 

 

Christian pocketed his knife, picked up his gun, and moved to the stairs. He hoisted up the gasoline. “Or three: I’ll tell him I’m sorry for what we were fighting about when you showed up. That bullshit that made him fucking cry so much. He’ll sincerely forgive me. I’ll be able to tell he’s so hopelessly goddamn in love with me. He’ll let me fuck his tight little ass and he’ll not be able to hide whether he’s into me or disgusted by me during. And what the hell. I’ll fucking give up my life of crime. I will leave town and fucking retire into a world of happily ever fucking after. I’ll even call in a fucking anonymous tip to your friends for them to come get you. How’s that sound?”

 

 

Chief didn’t speak. He didn’t allow any recognizable emotions to surface. He just watched and listened as Smith believed in the psychopath with all the confidence in the world.

 

 

They could hear Christian moving around the house above them for quite some time before things finally went quiet.

 

 

“Chief?”

 

 

“Yeah, kid?”

 

 

“You saved me!”

 

 

Chief sighed as the whiskey bubbled through his foggy brain. He finally forced himself to look at him, and his soul relaxed.

 

 

“You’re really good at negotiating! I didn’t know what he was gonna do to me! It was looking pretty...pretty dark for a minute there.” Smith nodded as he talked, so Chief nodded weakly too.

 

 

“Yeeeeah. It really was.” He hiccuped. “Looking pretty dark. For a minute. There.” He was glad that Smith had only suffered a few short minutes of terror compared to how long Christian was drawing it out to torment Chief.

 

 

“I feel really awake!”

 

 

Chief frowned curiously and took a better look at him. “Fuck.” The goddamn priest had gotten cocaine all over him. No doubt he had inhaled some while the bastard’s mouth was all over Smith’s and their noses were pressed together. Chief hated that he was still grateful that the kid was relatively unharmed, all things considered. He shouldn’t be thankful to someone for not hurting someone else. That should be common courtesy. He also hated that this meant the kid wasn’t going to fall asleep and miss it when the priest stormed back down there to kill them.

 

 

The time came much sooner than he’d expected. The front door of the house opened, followed by footsteps. Chief looked to his partner. Smith pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes. It was clear even he was having trouble believing it when he exclaimed merrily, “Oh, great! They’ve come to rescue us! That didn’t take long at all! Right Chief?”

 

 

“Sure, kid.” Chief’s eyes were sad until they heard several familiar voices.

 

 

“Chief?!”

 

 

“This is the right address, isn’t it?”

 

 

“Smith?!”

 

 

“Yeah. This is where the caller said to go. I triple-checked.”

 

 

The basement door opened. “You guys down there?”

 

 

_Holy shit._

 

 

Smith called out ecstatically proclaiming that they were there, and that Chief had saved him, and that Chief had talked the priest out of killing them.

 

 

“No.” Chief corrected firmly. “Smith. Kid. You may not understand this, but you did this. You saved us.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m all for giving you time off if you need it.” The commissioner watched Chief’s hand shake violently as he lifted the flask to his mouth. He was still neglecting to make eye contact with anyone. “But you’re our best chance of catching this guy. I don’t know why, but he keeps disappearing from our records and videos and everything else every few days. We have to start all over again. You’re the only one who even seems to remember him. Can’t you just talk to the shrink every day for a while and keep going?”

 

 

“No. He got in my head.” Chief stared at a paperweight as he tried to stop reliving the terror in his mind. He glanced over to Smith. The kid was shaken, too, but he was still beaming and insisting he could handle whatever Chief needed him to. “We both need some time off.” His eyes lingered on the bruises along Smith’s neck. They were clearly visible against the loose collar of the over-sized dress shirt he was now wearing. It was one of Chief’s extra shirts he’d had in his locker. Chief tried not to dwell on the fact the kid was in his clothes.

 

 

“What happened down there?”

 

 

Smith opened his mouth, but Chief’s hand clamped over it. “We don’t want to talk about it. Ever. Not with anyone but the shrink.” It probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for him to force on the kid, but he’d never be able to set foot back in the precinct if anyone knew that he’d begged a criminal to fuck him; even if it was to save his partner. “We just need some time.” He could at least give Smith that much.

 

 

It was after dark before Chief was dragging his feet towards his car with Smith right on his heels. Smith was buzzing around him as upbeat as ever, and once they were in the car, he was ecstatic when Chief let him play the mix tape he’d made as ‘their’ soundtrack. Chief was sure he’d never be able to deny the kid anything for the rest of his life.

 

 

When Smith reached toward the volume, Chief’s hand clamped onto his wrist. He held the kid’s arm in front of Smith’s face so the kid would be forced to acknowledge how hard he was quaking. “That’s why we gotta take some time off.” Chief was again reminded that Smith was wearing his clothes when the unbuttoned sleeve flopped against the kid’s smaller wrist as he pliantly allowed Chief to move his arm without hesitation.

 

 

 When Smith’s face titled to his lap as if he felt guilty, Chief held up his own hand. “It’s not just you.” Smith was fascinated as he watched the tremor in Chief’s fingers. “This means we could lock up next time we see the guy. Not to mention he got in our heads deep. You know he did. We’re not giving up our jobs or anything. We’re just taking some time to step back and gather ourselves. There’s no shame in it. It’s the safe thing to do. Besides, thanks to you, even if he returns to a life of crime later, we might have a breather here where he actually tries to steer clean for a while. So, let’s just go home and get some sleep.”

 

 

Smith thought on it for a moment before he grinned and nodded firmly. “Okay, Chief!”

 

 

When they pulled into the parking lot of Smith’s apartment, the kid paled. “Uh, Chief? C-can you, maybe, go in and make sure he’s not in there?” Chief put the car back in drive. “Chief? W-where we going now?”

 

 

Chief wouldn’t put it past the psychopath to show up at one of their houses to finish what he’d started, but he was pretty sure the adrenaline junky had probably moved on to his next fix by that point. Chief could see how Smith would be hard for a monster to get out of his head once he’d had a taste of him, though, and he wasn’t about to chance leaving the kid to suffer alone. “You’re going to stay at my place for as long as it takes you not to be scared to walk in your own door.”

 

 

Smith was in awe. “A sleepover? At your place?” Chief never invited him over. The only time he got to see Chief’s house was when he waited in the kitchen while Chief changed clothes, retrieved something he needed for work that he’d forgotten, or the very rare occasion that Chief was sick on his couch and Smith would bring him soup. When he was sick, it didn’t take long before Chief would growl at him until he’d leave him alone, so it’s not like he even got to sit in his living room chairs. “I don’t have any pajamas with me.”

 

 

Chief sighed. “You can wear some of mine.”

 

 

“You have pajamas?” Smith frowned in confusion as he tried to picture Chief in the busily patterned fabric onesies that he had at home.

 

 

“Of course, I have pajamas. Or pajama-ish clothes that I sleep in.”

 

 

Smith was still skeptical. “I always thought you just slept in your suits.”

 

 

Chief arched a brow high as he looked over at him before he sighed and shook his head.

 

 

It wasn’t long before Smith was bouncing happily into the living room in one of Chief’s T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. He gasped when the pants started to slide down, and he stopped to tie the drawstring tighter. Chief sighed as he lifted his other leg to the coffee table and continued to cycle through the couple of channels on the old television.

 

 

Smith stretched out on the couch, and Chief stiffened when he felt something against his lap. He looked down, and then looked over at the kid incredulously as he realized he’d put his legs across his lap. Hadn’t he had enough of having his bare feet exposed to another person for the day? Then it occurred to him that maybe the kid was subconsciously trying to reprogram the terror he felt by mimicking the thing that had hurt him in a safe environment. In his mind, Chief was that safe environment.

 

 

Smith didn’t seem to notice Chief’s discomfort as he fought not to remember the criminal’s hands running all over his feet. The kid only adjusted his head on a throw pillow and stared toward the TV as the light from the screen flickered over them in the darkness. Chief’s eyes shifted to the kitchen when he thought he saw a shadow move across the wall. He assessed their surroundings for a long time before he finally relaxed again.

 

 

Smith curled more tightly in on himself, and the movement of his legs caused Chief to look down again curiously. Chief sighed and turned on the lamp next to him. “Let me look at you.” Smith did suck in a breath then as Chief’s hands landed on his ankles to turn the limbs for his inspection. “Christ.” There were light scratch marks, and there were several rows of small round bruises where the priest had jammed his fingers into the kid’s skin to make him respond in obvious pain to get to Chief. These were there because Chief had looked away. He had left Smith to float alone in his living nightmare.

 

 

“It’s okay.” Smith assured him. “It doesn’t really hurt unless I p-p-poke it.” His breath stuttered when Chief unconsciously feathered his thumb over some of the marks.

 

 

Chief turned the light back out, and he tried to focus on the TV until Smith was yawning at regular intervals. “You ready to sleep?” Smith hummed his confirmation. “You can take the bed. I’ve got a blanket in here.”

 

 

“Oh! I couldn’t do that-”

 

 

“Just do it, Smith.” Chief led him into the bedroom, but Smith seemed too in awe to touch his covers as he tried to memorize everything within sight. Chief turned down the covers. He was pretty sure Smith was a nightlight kind of a guy, so since the bathroom opened into Chief’s bedroom, he turned on the light in there and clicked off the lamp on the bedside table.

 

 

Smith climbed beneath the covers and sank down. Chief arched a brow when he rolled against the pillow and inhaled deeply when he thought Chief wasn’t looking. He was probably trying to find out what scented products Chief used so he could use them too. Chief didn’t comment on it as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. When he opened the door only a few moments later, he startled to see Smith standing right in the doorway with a worried expression.

 

 

Smith forced a shy smile and leaned his head toward one raised shoulder. “H-hey, Chief? You’ve...you’ve had sex before, right?”

 

 

Chief inhaled wrong and burst into a fit of coughing. “Yeah.” He continued to choke. “Yes. Why?”

 

 

“W-with guys?”

 

 

“Smith. You walked in on me with that guy at the precinct picnic.” His eyes landed on Smith’s exposed arms in the T-shirt. There were dark bruises around his wrists from the handcuffs. He hadn’t realized how bad those were because Smith had been continuously tugging down his long sleeves. Had Chief hurt him earlier in the car when he had grabbed his wrist?

 

 

“Oh. Th-that’s what you were doing at the picnic?”

 

 

“What else would it have been?”

 

 

“Um.” Smith shrugged. “You react the same way when I walk in on you fighting.”

 

 

“What do you want to know, Smith?” He grumbled. “Get to it.”

 

 

“W-well. It’s not supposed to hurt, is it? Sex doesn’t hurt? I mean, it’s supposed to feel good, right?” Smith tilted his head with complete trust when Chief pinched his chin and maneuvered him to get a better look at his abused neck now that that the kid was standing in front of him with a bright light pouring over him. “And k-kissing? That shouldn’t hurt, should it? I mean, kissing’s kind of scary, when you really think about it. People have teeth, ya know?”

 

 

That drew his eyes to the kid’s lips. They were slightly swollen, and there was a split just off-centered on the bottom. “No, Smith. Kissing shouldn’t be scary, and s-” He took a breath. “Sex shouldn’t hurt. You see...when two people love each other...” He was distracted by a scratch peeking over the top of Smith’s shirt collar.

 

 

“Like you loved the guy at the picnic?”

 

 

“What?” Chief frowned in confusion and slightly in disgust. “No.” His fingers brushed the cut. “What the fuck is this?” He didn’t realize he was pushing Smith’s shirt up to look at him until Smith raised his arms for him to pull it over his head. “Jesus...”

 

 

He hadn’t realized the criminal’s touch had been so brutal, but he should have guessed. He should have known that Smith might not even be aware of how hurt he may be. If nature was as merciful as Chief liked to think, the kid would have been mentally checking out from that whole ordeal while it was happening. Adrenaline and dissociation would have padded the pain for the kid. The priest must have been touching him more aggressively to keep him making noises. Chief should have known that his partner was covered in bruises and cuts.

 

 

Smith was studying Chief’s look of horror. He really didn’t want him to be worried. He took in a breath to assure him he was just fine, but then he was being crushed against Chief’s body. He was overwhelmed with the familiar and welcoming scent of some super masculine body soap and after shave. Chief must put something in his hair to slick it back like that, too, because as he pressed the back of Smith’s head to hold him in place, a different scent wafted at him from that angle.

 

 

His chest was firm, and his arms were strong, and his body was so warm, especially after Smith had just removed his shirt. He was so safe. Smith inhaled deeply and moaned happily as he melted against him.

 

 

A hug would usually call for the other person to return the embrace around their body, but Smith could only convince his arms to pull into himself as he shrank even smaller. He pressed his hands against Chief’s chest as the man started walking him back toward the bed.

 

 

“Here.” Chief moved to lift the covers, but Smith tangled his hands in his shirt like he didn’t want to leave. “I’ll get in too. Go on, kid. I’ll stay right here.” He climbed in right behind him and tucked the covers around them.

 

 

“I knew you slept in your clothes.” Smith mumbled as he immediately buried his face in Chief’s chest. He had taken off his tie and his jacket, at least, and Smith could feel Chief’s skin against his forehead where Chief had loosened his shirt when they were sitting on the couch.

 

 

Chief had to stop himself from clutching him too tightly as he realized he’d somehow wound up holding the kid half-naked in his bed. Every nerve in Chief’s shaking hands was sending a damning signal right to his cock as he stroked along Smith’s back to soothe him each time he wriggled closer.

 

 

“Chief?” His voice was muffled against his body. “Why are you shaking?”

 

 

“I’m going to kill him.” Chief growled darkly as he planted several firm kisses to the top of Smith’s head. “He’s a dead man.”

 

 

“Don’t be mad at him, Chief.”

 

 

Chief snorted humorlessly “Why the fuck not? How could you possibly-”

 

 

“What if I’m like him?” Smith began to cry. “I think there’s something wrong with me, Chief!”

 

 

“Kid, there’s nothing wrong with you. What makes you think there is?”

 

 

“I just...” He snuffled noisily and sobbed harder. “I just didn’t know what he was gonna do to me! I still don’t know for sure what his plans were! But...but...he was hurting me. I know he was hurting me. And I was...it was like...I...there’s something wrong with me.”

 

 

“Kid. What do you think’s wrong with you? I don’t get it. You’re supposed to be scared and upset when someone hurts you.”

 

 

“I know! I know, and I was! I still am. But also...I...Chief. I was feeling things, and I don’t know why. And _he_ said I was liking it. Was I liking it?”

 

 

How was Chief supposed to answer that? “Smith. Just because your body responds to something doesn’t mean that’s what you consciously wanted your body to do. That’s what separates us from animals. We think before we act and don’t just take things from others if it would hurt them.”

 

 

“But does it matter if I was aware of it or not? Why was I...why did I? What if I can’t be normal? I never tried normal sex. How do I know if I even can? What if I’m messed up?”

 

 

“Look, sometimes human bodies just respond weird because of some left-over evolutionary bullshit or something. See, in the wild, if some huge berserk warlord one tribe over caught you alone and hauled you off to his private torture cave, you’d be more likely to survive it all if you went along with whatever he wanted, right? And what better way for your body to show that you’re going to be agreeable? Your body responding that way is a mercy and a survival instinct. You’re a survivor, kid. And a great cop. See?” Was any of that making sense to the kid? Chief felt a little awkward after rambling so long. Why did the kid always have so many difficult questions?

 

 

“I...I guess that makes sense.” Smith nuzzled against him. “But what if I’m broken now? What if I need something like that to...”

 

 

“Well, if you are, then you just find a safe and sane way to, um, flirt around with those urges without falling over into a predator category. There are ways. Healthy ways. Normal ways.”

 

 

“But you won’t arrest me for it?”

 

 

“For what, kid? No. Whatever it is. No.”

 

 

“Chief? Do...do you ever get...that way?” Smith’s fingers unconsciously tugged at the collar of Chief’s shirt.

 

 

“Yeah. All the time.”

 

 

“I mean...when you’re not supposed to? When it’s inappropriate?”

 

 

Chief grumbled as he pried one of Smith’s hands free and moved it between them. Smith was confused at first, but then Chief fumbled with his hand until he successfully guided the kid to grope him. Smith jerked his hand away and apologized like he had done something wrong. Chief tightened his arms around him to keep him from moving away until Smith gave in and relaxed against him again.

 

 

“You’re safe, kid.”

 

 

“I...I know, Chief.” Smith was thinking again in the silence that followed. Chief could almost feel the questions threatening to boil over. “Hey, Chief?”

 

 

“Yeah, kid.”

 

 

“You’re not scared of me, though.”

 

 

“It...it works the other way around, too.”

 

 

It was quiet as Smith took far too much time running Chief’s warlord scenario through his head and connecting the dots that a human might have a nature to respond with interest when they were in a situation to be a potential aggressor. So, Chief must be seeing something he wanted to take from Smith, right? The priest had said that Chief wanted to fuck Smith. He’d talked to Chief for a minute there like they were sharing the same appetite, and Chief had tried to reason with the priest like he’d known exactly what the criminal was feeling.

 

 

“Chief? The priest said...he said...a lot of things.”

 

 

“It doesn’t matter what he said, Smith. He was trying to confuse us.”

 

 

“Chief?” The kid was trembling now, and his fingers kept flexing against Chief’s shirt. “Will you...touch me?”

 

 

“I am touching you, kid.” Chief’s hands had yet to stop traveling over his naked back, and his fingertips had yet to stop taking note of the resulting goosebumps and shivers it caused his partner.

 

 

Smith’s face burrowed deeper into his chest, and the hot air passing through the fabric of his shirt from the kid’s labored breathing wasn’t helping keep Chief’s mind where he felt it should be.

 

 

“I...I know. But I mean _touch me_. Like he touched me.” He clutched onto Chief when the man stiffened as if Smith was afraid he was about to push him away in disgust. “Only in a nice way? Do everything he did, but sh-show me what it’s like while I’m safe, and it doesn’t hurt.”

 

 

“Smith.” Chief’s chest rumbled. “There are so many questions I should be asking you about that.” Questions like did Smith even like men or was he just confused right now because an experienced man had confused him? Questions like was he attracted to Chief or was he just clinging to him because he needed to feel safe?

 

 

“Chief, please show me. I don’t want to be broken.”

 

 

“Kid. You know this is sounding an awful lot like you’re asking me to make love to you, right? Is that what I’m hearing?”

 

 

Smith took so many painfully long heartbeats to answer that Chief was starting to think he wasn’t going to.  When he finally spoke, his voice was small. “Yeah.”

 

 

Chief took a breath to steady himself. “How far do you want to go?”

 

 

“I...I d-don’t know.” There was no possible way for him to get any closer, but he kept trying. He kept shivering at the feel of Chief’s hands running along his back, but if he stopped the motion for more than a few moments, the nervous tension turned into more violent trembling.

 

 

“You might not be ready for this. You’ve got all the time in the world, kid. There’s no reason to rush anything you’re not ready for.”

 

 

“Please.” Smith moved back a few inches when Chief worked his hand between them to unbutton his shirt. He watched his fingers like he was forever afterwards going to unbutton his shirt the same way. It was as if he thought there was some kind of art to doing everything with an aura of experience and control, and Chief was the master of that art. Chief was so cool, and when the man sat up to shrug his arms out of the sleeves, Smith started vibrating more desperately.

 

 

When Chief tossed the shirt to the floor and moved to unclasp his belt, it was a little difficult to accomplish when Smith plastered himself right back against his chest. The kid was losing it already. His hands quaked as his fingers traveled up Chief’s chest and along his shoulders. He was rubbing his cheek against his chest like he was fascinated with the hair there, and he’d yet to stop inhaling against his skin, probably unaware of how loud he was while doing it.

 

 

Chief pushed his pants down and kicked them away. He then propped himself up on an elbow on his side to hover over the kid. “Look at me.” He trailed his finger along Smith’s jaw and tilted his face up. He was a lovely sight. His mouth hung open, his features were flushed, and he was searching Chief’s face like he already knew he was going to love whatever the man said or did. He was simply waiting to be floored by it. He was wriggling like an excited puppy, and the undulating only increased when Chief looked at his lips and titled his head as if he was considering kissing him. He dutifully stopped a few inches away as he waited for Smith to relish the promise of what was to come.

 

 

“Chief...” Smith exhaled as a humble smile tugged at his lips. It was finally catching up to him that he was acting desperate in comparison to the patient and calculated movements of the other man. “I’m s-sorry...”

 

 

“You’re doing fine, kid.” Chief tucked his arm under his neck and Smith’s head fell back as Chief inched closer to his mouth. Chief didn’t try to disguise the want in eyes, and Smith’s legs all but ran in place as he found himself on the receiving end of that look. His lips barely grazed his, and Smith’s lungs stuttered violently as he clawed at his chest. He didn’t realize he’d begun thrusting until Chief’s hand came to rest on his hip to still him. Smith whimpered in abandon as Chief spoke against his lips. “Slooow...easy...”

 

 

He pulled back to look at him, and Smith followed his retreat with a needy whine. Chief couldn’t push Christian’s voice from his head.

_Holy fuck. he’s goddamn beautiful. This is fucking perfect. How in the fuck have you not done this already, old man?_

 

 

Chief growled low, and the kid’s shoulders rippled with desire at the dangerous vibration. Chief’s hand lifted to touch his face, and Smith’s eyelid fluttered as he fought his eye from rolling back.

 

 

“Chief...” Smith moaned wantonly when he pressed his mouth back to his. Then he seized up stiff when Chief’s tongue traced across his lips to get him to open to him. “Oh, god...” Smith’s head fell further back as Chief deepened the kiss and the taste of whisky washed through his mouth. His voice was muffled when he continued to chant a mixture of ‘oh god’ and Chief’s name.

 

 

Chief groaned as the kid spoke around his tongue in rapture. His hand drifted back down to his hip when Smith instinctively began to thrust again, but this time he hooked his arm behind him and pulled him closer. Chief shuddered with need when the kid cried out into his mouth at the contact. Smith had no clue how to pace himself, and Chief was forced to stop him again when the kid’s movements became urgent enough to indicate he was approaching release.

 

 

Chief pulled his mouth away and rested his forehead against Smith’s as they both fought for air. “Holy hell, kid.” His hands locked him in place as Smith continued to squirm with excitement.

 

 

Chief pressed him onto his back. Smith had told him to try and do some of the things his attacker had done and rewrite the motions in his heart to mean something better. Smith watched him worshipfully as he moved to straddle him. The kid had perfect trust for the man, and his arms raised over his head in surrender as Chief leaned in to kiss him again.

 

 

“You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, kid.” Chief had yet to press their lower halves together, but he could feel Smith’s hips writhing in seek of contact. “We can stop any time you want. I won’t be disappointed. We can simply try again later. There’s no rush.”

 

 

“T-touch...” Smith’s hands wafted helplessly towards his throat as he fought to tell him what he needed. “Touch m-my...here...neck...please...” He arched up when the fingers of one of Chief’s hands curled firmly but gently around his throat. Smith’s vision went distant as his mouth fell open. A whimper escaped him.

 

 

Chief leaned down to murmur against his ear. “Stay with me. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

 

 

That whole spiel about dangerous warlords and dominant wild men was rushing through Smith’s head as he tilted his head back to further expose his throat to him. It was arousing to imagine Chief so unhinged and taking what he wanted, and since Smith knew Chief would never hurt him, he wasn’t hesitant to let those thoughts file through his brain.

 

 

Smith smiled distractedly as he laughed at himself for having such cheesy thoughts, but he quivered when Chief’s throat rumbled darkly in response to the trusting and innocent tug of his lips.

 

 

“Fffffuck, Chief...” His hand clasped onto Chief’s to encourage the grip on his throat. “Please don’t stooOOAh OH GOD!” Chief had lowered his hips to press against him, and the rolling motion that followed caused Smith’s hands to claw out at his sides. “OH GOD CHIEF! OH GOD!”

 

 

Smith was left gasping for air when Chief suddenly sat back on his heels. The kid was completely pliant as Chief pulled away his pants. His attention landed on Chief’s erection, observant as ever, as he struggled to memorize everything about the man he possibly could. Chief leaned down to kiss his stomach, and Smith pulsed his hips as he felt the tastefully hairy chest he’d been so fascinated with now dragging along his cock as Chief moved back up his body.

 

 

“Easy...” Chief reminded, and Smith arched up to the warm vibration from his lips against his skin. His mouth finally reached one of his nipples, and Smith wasn’t able to hear him directing him to slow anymore. Chief tucked an arm under the kid’s back when he arched up almost uncomfortably this time. Smith’s hands landed on Chief’s shoulders, and he hummed as the kid dug his short nails into his back in euphoria.

 

 

The kid didn’t ask if Chief meant to take him, and even though Chief didn’t have any intention of scaring him with anal sex at that moment, his heart was warmed with how trusting Smith was of him. His legs had fallen open to him without question, and his body was completely relaxed as he pulled Chief closer to encourage his mouth on him.

 

 

Chief dragged his body back into place to look down at him, and he wrapped his fingers around his throat again as he kissed him. Smith released a long slew of mewls and unintelligible pleas until Chief’s fingers began to slowly map their way down his body. He dipped his face into the kid’s neck and opened his mouth wide to taste his skin while he kissed along his bruised throat. Smith tasted like the generic soap at the precinct. Chief couldn’t wait to drag him into his shower in the morning and run his own soap all over the kid to make him smell like him. Smith would probably love that.

 

 

“H-h-holy...” Smith’s head dropped to the side when Chief barely ghosted his fingers along his cock. He hiccupped with the effort of containing himself when Chief secured his fingers around him and gave a few experimental tugs to try and gage how close the kid was to finishing. “Ch-ch-chief...”

 

 

He took his hand away and moved instead to stroke himself to catch up with him. He leisurely kissed and sucked along Smith’s neck as he adjusted his stamina to the inexperienced youth. He returned his fingers to feather against his partner’s length here and there to keep him teetering on the edge. He felt a little guilty when it became clear he was drawing it out too long when the kid started begging him for release like he needed his permission or approval or something.

 

 

Smith gulped in a breath when Chief’s hand left him again. “Ch-chief! P-please! I n-need...” He was sobbing but somehow managing to smile weakly about it. “I neeeed...”

 

 

“Be patient, kid. I’ll get us there.” Chief shifted to line up their cocks and Smith’s hands clamped against his arms in shock as he felt him pulsing against him. His mouth dropped open and a strangled noise creaked through his throat. His fingers flexed against Chief’s arms as he stared at the ceiling.

 

 

“Breathe.” Chief groaned as he looked down at him while gliding his hand along both their lengths.

 

 

“Chieeef...I need to...I have to...can I please...oh god I can’t hold it...”

 

 

It was the most beautiful thing Chief had ever seen in his life. He felt the heat swirling in his stomach as his soul threatened to pour out even before the kid finished. “Jesus, kid...” His hand sped up, and his heart warmed further when it caused the kid to whine in a higher pitch as he lost the last strand of his almost nonexistent control. “Alright. C-come with me...”

 

 

Smith’s focus locked onto Chief’s face when he realized the man was going to climax with him; because of him. The kid wanted to see this so badly; to watch Chief’s face for every subtle change that indicated a loss of composure so that he could know even that about the man.

 

 

Smith was losing his own battle with clarity, however, and he only had the mind frame left to process that Chief’s lids were heavy with lust and his lips were parted as he cursed while watching Smith unravel. Chief’s chest vibrated with a deep growl, and Smith was done for.

 

 

Smith cried out as he came, and then he seemed to keep coming for a record amount of time as his toes curled and his arms scrambled to hang onto the man over top of him as if the Earth might open up beneath him and swallow him up if he didn’t cling to him hard enough.

 

 

When the kid’s blurry vision finally started to sharpen again, Chief’s shoulders were still rising and falling heavily. He looked down at him like he’d just discovered a rare treasure that he was never going to let out of his sight for the rest of his life. He didn’t miss it when Smith’s eyes darted to his lips, and he didn’t deny him in connecting their mouths again.

 

 

Chief didn’t pull away from his lips when Smith groped for his hand and pressed it back to his throat like that was now his new security blanket. Chief only arched a brow before he adjusted their bodies to spoon the kid. He tucked his bottom arm beneath him and curled it up to his neck like he’d wanted, and he wrapped his other arm around his waist to pull him back against his body.

 

 

Smith’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. “Thanks, Chief.”

 

 

Chief laughed weakly. “Yeah. Anytime, kid.” He could feel the ripple of questions pass down the kid’s spine before he inched further back against him.

 

 

“Really?”

 

 

There was no point in fighting against it anymore. Chief hummed in confirmation and kissed the back of his neck as he gave the kid’s throat a gentle squeeze. Smith sighed in contentment, and that’s when Chief realized the kid was going to be okay. His ever-present optimism hadn’t been damaged. His spirits hadn’t been crushed.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Christian opened the beer bottle carefully and took a long drink. The priest was completely silent when he belched. He turned into the hallway and didn’t make a single sound as he expertly avoided every creaking board on his way back to Chief’s bedroom. He had mapped out the entire house and every quirk he needed to know about to stay undiscovered long before the cops had arrived that night.

 

 

He took another drink as he gazed down at the sleeping men tangled together naked under the sheets. He knew they would come back to Chief’s place. He knew, because, if it were Christian, nothing would have stopped him from taking that kid somewhere to fuck him after what they’d been through, and, if he were that kid, he would have been terrified to go back to his home alone. The man had sure put up a good fight, though. Christian had watched from the closet as Chief struggled with his desires before finally snapping when the kid begged him to touch him.

 

 

Christian didn’t like the part where Chief had sworn he was going to kill the priest. He did like the parts where he could so easily tell that he was in both of their heads throughout their entire romantic encounter, though. That shit where Smith was getting off on Chief holding his throat was fucking gold.

 

 

Christian swallowed a little too loud. That whole fucking thing had been far hotter than he’d imagined tender and romantic sex ever could be. The guy was so patient with that doe-eyed rookie. He had so much self-control. Christian bristled as he found himself wishing anyone had ever been so careful with him, especially when he was first learning what sex was in the first place.

 

 

Christian wasn’t sure when he had decided not to kill them. He had yet to go talk to Bart. He had lied to the cops that they were in various levels of danger depending on how the artist might respond to his advances, yet Christian had left the house and immediately called in a tip to their idiot precinct on where they could find them.

 

 

The serial killer had then gone to Chief’s house because he didn’t quite understand what these two had done to him, and he was pissed about it. He’d nosed around the house until they arrived, and he was smug about it when he realized Chief hadn’t been able to stop himself from keeping the kid with him as he’d predicted. Christian had plenty of opportunities to quietly kill one of them and then do whatever he wanted to the other one for as long as he pleased. He hadn’t acted on them; wasn’t going to act on the opportunity he had now.

 

 

At one point early on, Chief hadn’t been able to find what he was looking for in his dresser, and he’d opened one side of the closet. Christian was close enough to smell him as he slid the coat hangers around with noisy scratching and grumbling curses like he wasn’t dying to see the kid in his clothes or something. Christian had lifted his fingers to hover along Chief’s sleeve, and his eyes rolled back at the spike of adrenaline that accompanied the danger of discovery.

 

 

Then Chief had stepped away leaving the closet door open and leaving Smith alone in his bedroom to change into the clothes he’d gathered for him. It would have been so easy to choke him out, walk into the living room and slit Chief’s throat, and come back and work out all that tension that he’d built up on the kid’s unconscious body. He didn’t. He’d just watched Smith play with Chief’s badge on the dresser for far too long before the kid walked into the bathroom and started smelling Chief’s soap and taking note of what brands he used. God he was so fucking adorable it physically hurt.

 

 

Now Christian found himself standing over Chief’s bed wondering how the bastard had triggered some kind of daddy kink in the back of Christian’s head that made him keep accidentally imagining himself in Smith’s place instead of simply fantasizing over topping the kid himself.

 

 

Christian wondered if there was any way he could get Bart to respond to his touch all trusting and enthusiastic like Chief had dragged out of that kid so easily. Christian had yet to fuck the artist. He’d thought about it plenty of times, and he was still confused on why he hadn’t just taken what he’d wanted. Christian had been wanting something from Bart he just couldn’t identify yet, however, and not knowing exactly what he wanted to take was understandably preventing him from moving to usurp it.

 

 

A pull in his stomach was now starting to realize what his desires for Bart really were. He just hadn’t witnessed gentle touch before to know it’s what could possibly get the sounds and expressions from the artist that he wanted him to make. Christian was in goddamn love with Bart. He wanted to make love to him. That’s what Chief had called it. He’d asked Smith if the kid was asking him to make love to him when Smith had described all these needy things he wanted Chief to do to him. Of course, Christian knew of the concept. He wasn’t an idiot. It just had never crossed his mind he could personally want such a dangerous and complicated thing.

 

 

He took another drink before heading back into the kitchen. He stared down at the release papers on the kitchen table that said the two cops were taking some time off. _Good move, old man._ He wasn’t going to do that thing where he obsessively went after his arch enemy until everything ended in tragedy for both parties.

 

 

Christian blinked in confusion when several splotches of red pattered around the white paper. He stepped back as blood began to gush from him nose, and he inwardly cursed that Chief had fucking carpet in his kitchen.

 

 

When the nosebleed stopped, he silently shifted through the cabinets in search of the proper chemicals to make his abandoned blood useless in helping their case. Of course, the ever-prepared Chief had everything he needed.

 

 

The priest didn’t put away the chemicals or try to clean up the mess, just ruin it as a potential lead. Let Chief see that he’d been there, that he was missing a beer from the brand new previously unopened case in his fridge, that Christian’s eyes had seen those papers. Let him know that Christian had watched them being intimate and then watched them sleep. Let him wonder why he hadn’t killed them.

 

 

Would he alert that kid, or make up something to explain the blood to keep him ignorant so he’d feel safe? Christian couldn’t stop himself from further playing with the man. He used his blood to smear a heart around Smith’s name on the release papers. He fanned the page to dry it after applying the chemicals over that, too. All the type was distorted now, but the threat was still clear.

 

 

Christian didn’t waste time in getting the fuck out of there after dumping the chemicals around. He didn’t know how sensitive either cop’s nose was, and strong smells could definitely wake a guy who was already on edge. Christian took the beer with him and climbed into his current stolen car.

 

 

No one had recognized Bart before he’d fled the scene when the cops had walked in on them. Well, they had seen him before, but those times they’d never really gotten his name or thought to remember his face. The poor guy was invisible to the whole world no matter how much he threw himself out there. He had even told his followers online repeatedly that he was a hostage, and no one had made so much as a half-hearted attempt to check on him.

 

 

Christian could easily have guessed that Bart had simply gone back to his own house when he’d escaped him, because the artist’s self-esteem told him that even his kidnapper wouldn’t care to find him in such an obvious place. Christian had been too insecure to try and contact Bart, however, so he texted Clairvoyance and told him to investigate the matter. Clairvoyance had alerted Christian that his assumptions had been true, and then he’d bitched at him because he wanted to know why the artist was crying more than usual.

 

 

Christian cursed when the car ran out of gas several blocks away. He didn’t really care that much. It was time to ditch it for a new one soon anyway. He squinted painfully against the sunrise that had taken too long to light the overcast sky. He put the car in neutral and guided it off the main road to better hide it. There was no way to know that the priest was the one who had stolen the car, but he’d still rather go through the motions of keeping things low key. He then stumbled across an overgrown abandoned old park and fell asleep on a damp, rotting park bench underneath an unfolded newspaper to keep the light sprinkling of rain from pelting his face.

 

 

The cocaine was thrumming his blood through his veins and keeping him warm through most of the day, but as night approached, Christian awoke wet and shivering violently. “Fuck.” He grumbled as he fumbled for more drugs. The fix worked to make everything right, and his voice echoed through the trees as he yelled out a pleased expletive before falling into an aggressive fit of sneezing and twitching.

 

 

He frowned as he realized it was dark. All that shit with the cops had really done a number on him. He’d forgotten to hit the drugs for so long that he’d actually been able to go to sleep; for a whole day at that. He hadn’t remembered really sleeping in weeks except when he just fell over into a temporary coma when his body naturally tried to save itself from going insane from the lack of rest.

 

 

Christian climbed through Bart’s window instead of alerting anyone he was there. He removed his combat boots and sat them next to Bart’s bed, and then he moved quietly around Bart’s room as he listened to Bart and Clairvoyance talking to each other from across the house.

 

 

“I am going back to my room for a while.” Bart’s ridiculous but now familiar accent made Christian’s lip curl almost into a smirk.

 

 

Clairvoyance sounded exasperated as he opened the basement door. “Are you alright?”

 

 

“Of course, I am. Why would I not be?”

 

 

Christian stepped to where Bart wouldn’t see him when he opened the door.

 

 

“Oh, you know...”

 

 

Bart huffed indignantly. “I assure you, I am perfectly well!” He entered his room, not looking behind the door, and didn’t turn as he pushed it closed behind him. Christian’s fingers turned the lock in place as soon as it clicked closed, and the artist remained ignorant of his presence as he watched Bart glide towards his bed and stop just beside it.

 

 

For a moment, Christian thought that he’d seen his boots, but he was wrong. Bart still didn’t look behind him as he removed his hat and glasses and sat them on the side table. He clasped his hands to his face, and his shoulders trembled as he immediately started to sob.

 

 

Clairvoyance was closer to his door now. “You’re not going to lie in there and cry, though, right?”

 

 

“Absolutely not!” Bart tried to disguise his sniffles for another moment.

 

 

“Okaaaaay...” Clairvoyance sounded skeptical. “I’ll be in the basement if you need anything.” His voice was getting further away. “And don’t sit in there crying, Bart!”

 

 

“I am not!” Bart hugged himself and melted into more passionate tears at the sound of the basement door closing.

 

 

“Kind of seems like you are.”

 

 

Christian was right behind him. Bart whirled around in panic, and the priest caught his arms to keep him from falling back. Bart’s eyes were wide as he called Christian’s name, and his knees wobbled dangerously as he fought not to collapse in shock.

 

 

“C-Christian?” Bart swallowed heavily as he gathered himself. “W-what do you need from me?” He could only assume Christian wanted to use him for some scheme or else he wouldn’t be there. Christian pulled Bart’s hands to rest on his shoulders, and a flash of confusion crossed the artist before he was distracted by the chill of Christian’s wet shirt.

 

 

Bart jerked his hands away. “Christian, you are soaked! And just...just filthy!” He rubbed his hand along his forehead in exasperation. He sighed. “Alright. Um. I’ll get you some dry clothing. Take that off.”

 

 

Bart’s eyes followed the movement of Christian’s hands when they lifted to unbutton his shirt as he’d instructed. Bart’s attention quickly shifted up to Christian’s eyes and he flinched to find his eyes watching his face while he disrobed himself.

 

 

Christian thought to himself that Chief managed to do this without it being an intimidating thing to Smith. It wasn’t working for Christian, however. Bart was looking both confused and terrified. Maybe it was because Christian was staring at him while he unbuttoned his shirt? Christian forced himself to turn slightly and look away, and Bart exhaled in relief.

 

 

“W-well.” Bart cleared his throat. He was flustered now. He automatically looked back to Christian when the criminal dropped his pants and stepped out of them. “Oh. My.” He shook his head and turned to go to his closet. He stiffened dramatically when Christian caught his arm again and pulled him back to stand where he’d been crying beside his bed.

 

 

“Help me warm up,” the con artist manipulated.

 

 

“Y-you could use the shower.” Bart’s eyes landed on Christian’s gun next to his pants on the floor. He was impressed that he wasn’t waving the thing in his face.

 

 

“Get out of your clothes. All of them. Get under the covers. Now, Bart.”

 

 

Bart flinched, and then his fingers hesitated at the hem of his shirt until Christian pulled it over his head for him. “I c-can do it, Christian.” His hands shook as he removed his own pants, turning the covers down and sitting beneath them to cover himself before pushing them away.

 

 

“Those too.” Christian ignored Bart’s helpless whimper when the priest folded back the covers and ripped off his underwear before removing his own.

 

 

Christian was already failing miserably. Chief had started out his whole game by reminding Smith to be patient, making sure he actually wanted him in return in the first place, telling him there was no rush, and asking him what he wanted.

 

 

Bart was shivering all over, now, as Christian settled between his legs. He forced his arms around him far too tightly as he pressed their bodies flush against each other. The artist wasn’t even sure if Christian was homophobic or not and was panicking because his body was responding to the contact. He was likely thinking that Christian was doing this just to see if Bart would get hard because he wanted the excuse to kill him for it. Bart was freezing up and acting like he was about to retreat into some kind of happy place in his head. What was it that Chief had done when Smith had seemed to be doing that?

 

 

Christian dropped his face next to Bart’s ear and inhaled deeply. That’s probably not what Chief had done. Bart further seized up as his hips jerked in response to Christian’s full exhale against his skin after he’d smelled him. Christian slid his hand up to his neck and wrapped his fingers around his throat, though he did this as delicately as if Bart might crumble under his touch. He forgot that the reason Smith had wanted Chief to do that was to try and reprogram the kid from the terror of Christian doing it in the first place and not because clutching someone’s neck was a romantic gesture.

 

 

“C-Christian? Christian...”

 

 

Now he remembered what Chief had said. Christian’s lips ghosted against Bart’s ear as he whispered to him. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.” Christian’s breath stuttered when it actually fucking worked. Bart gasped and shuddered as his muscles relaxed to him and his head fell back. He snaked his arms up over Christian’s shoulders and hummed when Christian repeated the comforting words.

 

 

Christian wanted to move slower, but somehow, he had started lapping and sucking at Bart’s neck without first consciously thinking to do so. Bart’s head tilted to the side to give him better access. The way he sighed Christian’s name with a whole new meaning was doing things, desperate things, to Christian’s state of arousal.

 

 

Bart tensed, and Christian realized his fingers were digging into the artist’s side aggressively. He growled as he fought for control, and Bart shivered before relaxing again when Christian’s palm smoothed gently along his side and up to his nipple. He rolled his hips against him, and both their hard lengths pulsed against the friction.

 

 

“Oh. God. C-Christian...” It was clear he’d never been touched by another person, even if he hadn’t confessed as much to Christian already. He was responding far too eagerly, but that didn’t matter. Christian was driven and impulsive. He would only last as long as he forced it.

 

 

Bart sounded more than a little hesitant when he next spoke. “Y-you can...I would like it if you would...I’m ready for it if you want to...”

 

 

Christian frowned as a jolt of possessive jealousy shot through him. What was he trying to say? That he was already worked open? How? Why? Christian’s hand dropped to inspect him, and his slick entrance and lack of tension confirmed that was indeed what the artist was trying to say.

 

 

“I will fucking murder him...” Christian moved to get up as he tried to decide whether he wanted to kill Clairvoyance fast or slow. He almost succeeded in moving away before Bart’s swimming brain caught up to him, and he sat up to throw his arms back around him.

 

 

“No! It’s not that! Christian! I’ve still never...with another person...” Bart trembled in the heat of Christian’s frown as the serial killer moved back over him as the artist coaxed him back into place.

 

 

Christian narrowed his eyes as he waited while Bart stammered and blushed furiously. It’s not like he could blame the guy if he’d turned to someone else for emotional or physical comfort after everything that Christian had put him through. He still loved the artist. He still worshiped him.

 

 

Christian sighed. “Breathe. Bart. Just be honest with me. I won’t be mad at you. We’ll keep going. It’s not possible to make me stop wanting you. I just want to know. I’ll only hurt your friend really bad. I promise.”

 

 

His eyes followed Bart’s hand as he crammed it beneath his pillow and looked away. Christian arched a brow as Bart wiggled the vibrator at him to explain before stuffing it back under the pillow and draping his arm over his eyes dramatically.

 

 

Christian pushed his arm away and pinned his wrist over his head. “Look at me.” He demanded this rather than asking, but he forced his voice softer when Bart looked at him with frightened eyes. “You’re mine.”

 

 

Bart’s eyebrows rose and he blinked rapidly. “Oh...oh...okay.” His eyes shifted to the side insecurely before he looked back to see that Christian was watching his mouth with avid interest. Bart licked his lips, and Christian tilted his head and moved closer. He hesitated as he tried to decide how to salvage the situation and make Bart relax again. The artist was unconsciously clenching his thighs inward against Christian’s hips, and he was visibly shaking even if Christian couldn’t feel it all along his body.

 

 

“Christian?” Bart was highly distracted by Christian’s lips so close to his. He looked away as he tried to decide how to phrase his request without triggering the unpredictable criminal. “Please...don’t stop...being...kind.”

 

 

_Ah._ So, Christian had been doing something right before if Bart had thought his actions were kind. _So, what am I doing wrong now to-oh._ He released his hold on Bart’s wrist over his head and only then realized he was pinning his other hand at their side. Bart released the breath he’d been holding, and the pressure against Christian’s hips lessened as Bart’s legs began to relax.

 

 

That’s the body language Christian wanted, but he hadn’t realized just how desperately he was lacking this in his life. He’d never been able to identify what was missing before. He was trying his best to make him comfortable, but every time Bart started doing what he wanted, Christian’s heart started thrumming and he began to lose himself to the excitement.

 

 

The artist was hyper aware of Christian’s every subtle que that might give him insight into his mood or his intentions. Christian had trained him to be that way over the course of time he’d been actively kidnapping him and repeatedly pursuing him. It wasn’t surprising that Bart didn’t know what to expect from him, nor that he might assume he meant him harm.

 

 

Christian closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. For making you cry and shit. Bart. Look. I can’t promise that I won’t keep...doing...shitty things. But. But I don’t like for you to feel. Sad.”

 

 

“Okay.” Christian was floored when Bart immediately started nodding vigorously and accepting that Christian meant well in the best way that Christian possibly could mean well. “Okay. Okay...” He moaned needily when Christian pressed their lips together, and then he threw his arms around Christian’s neck to pull him closer. His mouth fell open when Christian’s body instinctively moved against him, and Christian deepened the kiss.

 

 

Bart jolted, and Christian eased his teeth off his lip and sucked gently instead. He became so lost in their connected mouths, that he didn’t notice Bart’s hand tucking between them until he was already wrapping his fingers around Christian’s cock. 

 

 

“Fffuck...” Christian cursed into Bart’s mouth before carefully stroking his tongue along his when Bart hesitated at the sound. He assumed the artist was just exploring, but then he guided Christian to his entrance and moved his hands to his hips to encourage him forward. “Fuck, baby...”

 

 

Bart whimpered pitifully at the pet name as Christian slowly pushed into him. Christian’s body quaked as he fought not to aggressively shove himself into the warmth. He raised up to look into Bart’s eyes, and the artist was completely and utterly seduced by the romantic gesture of him watching his face with lust-clouded eyes as he took him.

 

 

Christian’s brain was firing off again, and he didn’t give the artist much time to adjust to him before he pulled back and thrust into him firmly several times. Bart’s shoulders jerked, and his fingers tightened on Christian’s hips, but he was making noises that sounded more unsure than pained.

 

 

Christian growled and dropped his face far too purposefully into Bart’s neck while his hand tangled in his hair to force his head back. He stopped himself before he bruised him when Bart yelped in fear when he felt his teeth graze him. It took Christian several minutes to realize that the continuous noises that were pleasing to him as they progressively increased in volume probably meant that he was scaring the artist. Christian was losing far too much control, however, and he sat back on his heels and grabbed Bart’s hips to brace him. Bart’s eyes went wide as he pushed up onto his elbows like he might try to crawl back away from him, but Christian’s grip was far too firm for him to go anywhere.

 

 

“C-C-CAREFUL! OH GOD! JESUS GOD!” Bart’s fingers dug into Christian’s wrists. The priest stopped completely and gasped for breath as he looked down at him. Bart’s voice dropped to a whisper as he pleaded with him. Bart was searching his eyes like he was trying to figure out if kind-Christian was still with him. “Christian?” Christian couldn’t be frustrated with Bart being frightened again, because he was too busy acknowledging that the artist seemed to feel that there was a good side of Christian to look for.

 

 

There was a tap at the door, and they both looked in that direction as they continued to motionlessly catch their breaths.

 

 

“Bart? The fuck are you doing in there? Are you okay?”

 

 

“Y-y-yes.” Bart gulped. “I am...I am well.”

 

 

“You don’t sound well. Why are you winded?” The door handle jiggled and Bart yipped since he didn’t know it was locked. “Um...Bart?”

 

 

“I’m...I’m with my...my...boyfriend?”

 

 

Christian groaned and fell forward onto his hands over him. He pulsed his hips far more gently now as he carefully kissed the side of his face. “Damn fucking right you’re with your boyfriend.” His thumb caressed his nipple as he continued to move inside him. He nuzzled into his neck to taste his skin and Bart’s head fell back in surrender.

 

 

“Oh, god, Christian...” Bart whispered low as he quivered and arched up to the feel of Christian moving so carefully while he waited for the other person to leave. “Christian...you’re going to m-make me...” He warned, which drew a pleased hum from the criminal.

 

 

Clairvoyance was confused. “You have a boyfriend?”

 

 

Bart was indignant. “Why wouldn’t I have a boyfriend?!”

 

 

“Geez! No reason! I just kind of had the impression you were hung up on Christian, is all!” He still clearly didn’t believe Bart was with someone, or he’d just have caused a problem for him and the man.

 

 

Christian was pleased with what he heard, but still eager to get back to his current agenda. Bart yelped even though Christian turned away from his ear before he barked, “Get the fuck out of here!”

 

 

“SHIT! CHRISTIAN? DON’T YOU HURT HIM!” Clairvoyance beat on the door. “I MEAN IT!”

 

 

Christian sighed in annoyance, but he was highly distracted with the fact that he’d somehow managed to find the perfect angle in his gentle thrusting. Bart’s fingers were clenching in the sheets and his mouth was hanging open as he panted. He was whining Christian’s name and begging him not to stop.

 

 

Bart was clearly swooned when he forced his voice loud enough to carry across the room. “I’m f-fine! Oh, god! OH MY GOD!” He cleared his throat, but the noise turned into a long moan. “R-really! I’m perfectly safe...”

 

 

Christian cursed. “Fuck yeah you are, baby.” He didn’t dare move from the angle or change his speed. “Say it again. Say how you’re safe under me...”

 

 

“I’m s-s-safe...Christian...”

 

 

“That’s right, because I won’t hurt you...”

 

 

“Y-you won’t hurt me...”

 

 

“You’re so fucking safe...and you want me...and you like it...”

 

 

“I w-want you! God, Christian! Like that! Please, don’t stop! Oh God!”

 

 

“Fffuck I’m gonna come, baby. I’m going to come in you. Holy fuck...”

 

 

 Christian’s words caused Bart’s eyes to fly open. His back arched and his hand flew down to stroke himself. His fingers barely clasped his length before he shot off with a cry that stuttered at the same rate as Christian’s hips when the priest tumbled over the edge with him. Bart didn’t realize he was tugging the priest down towards him until Christian was already kissing him again.

 

 

He stayed over him until their breathing slowed. Clairvoyance must have heard at least some of that, because he wasn’t still trying to get in to save Bart from him. Christian pulled back to look at Bart. His lids were closed, but his eyes were moving rapidly behind the lids as if he was being bombarded with anxious thoughts.

 

 

Bart wasn’t sure what Christian was going to do now. He was afraid he was about to shove his arms away and climb off him like he was done with him now that he’d gotten what he wanted. Christian could tell that’s what it was, because Bart’s touch was now hesitant, and the artist was too afraid to actually voice anything on his mind for fear it would throw his emotions out there to be ripped apart.

 

 

Chief didn’t have to reassure that kid. Smith had known he was loved. He did hold the kid, however, and maybe Christian could start there. Christian tucked his arms beneath Bart’s body and gathered him against him. He pressed his lips along his neck and the side of his face to insist he really had wanted him, and it hadn’t been a random impulse.

 

 

“You’re mine.” Christian reminded him of this, and even though Bart tensed slightly as if he wasn’t sure whether it was a threat or a reassurance, it worked to make his hands start clutching at Christian’s back to return the embrace. “Do you want to go tell your friend I wasn’t in here raping you?”

 

 

“I...I don’t think so.”

 

 

“Did I just rape you?”

 

 

“No! No, Christian. I just think it was fairly obvious to him that I was, um...” He cleared his throat. “Enjoying myself, is all.”

 

 

He looked away when Christian fell to the side, and Christian knew he was feeling that insecurity again. The priest hooked his arm around Bart’s waist and pulled him back to spoon him as he settled against the pillows. That’s what Chief had done to the kid. When Bart sighed happily in response and wriggled back against him, Christian’s heart did so many flips that he didn’t realize he was digging his fingers into Bart’s skin too tightly until Bart was checking on him.

 

 

“Are...are you alright?” Bart shivered when Christian kissed the back of his neck affectionately. “W-what’s happened to you? I mean, to make you...never mind.”

 

 

Christian knew that the artist was too afraid to point out that he was acting out of character. He either didn’t want to piss him off or he was afraid Christian would stop; or both. The priest didn’t make him flounder in confusion.

 

 

“You were upset. I didn’t like how I felt about that. I had to think about how I did want you to feel once I noticed there was a way I didn’t want you to feel. Then I had to wonder why it mattered. I had some time to think. Then some things happened. I saw some things. Did some things. One thing led to another and I got an idea of what I wanted to happen. Here we are. Now you’re mine and you can never get away from me for the rest of your life.”

 

 

“Oh. Okay.” Bart’s voice was a little high-pitched, then, but he still pressed further back against him. “Okay,” he repeated.

 

 

“Also, I might try to slowly ween off a life of crime, but no promises.”

 

 

Bart choked. “R-really?”

 

 

“Probably gonna stay on the coke for a good while, though.”

 

 

“Do...do you want to talk about it?”

 

 

“Talk about what?”

 

 

“Whatever, um, happened to you?”

 

 

Christian huffed almost humorously. “Noooo.”

 

 

“Was it that horrible?”

 

 

“No. It would just probably scare the shit out of you to know what I’m capable of, and I don’t want you going anywhere.”

 

 

Bart whimpered. “Oh. K-k-kay...”

 

 

“But maybe someday. After we’re married and I know you won’t have the option of ditching me.”

 

 

“W-what?”

 

 

“You heard me.”

 

 

Bart gulped. “Right. Oh, my. Okay. Right.”

 

 

“And Bart? You don’t. Have the option. Of ditching me.”

 

 

Bart was tensing again, but when Christian squeezed him and kissed along his neck again, he began to relax. Christian saw that as a win. _Take that, old man._ Christian was successfully getting the artist to fall asleep in his arms after pleasuring him. He even had one-upped Chief, because he’d already fucking proposed, and that self-conscious old man wasn’t likely to come to terms with bagging himself some security with his naive little toy for many years to come.

 

 

Christian could bet that Chief wouldn’t even realize he was in a steady relationship with that kid until Smith already had his toothbrush in the bathroom and fresh clothes in his own drawer in Chief’s dresser.

 

 

Christian could make this happen. He _would_ make this happen.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The two hapless cops had only been back to work for three weeks and two days when they found themselves captured by a local drug gang. Their arms and legs were bound, and they were gagged.

 

 

Chief prodded the cloth with his tongue with disgust at the feel of cotton in his mouth. He shifted on the tattered old couch to look at Smith. He’d told the kid to wait in the car when he came in to investigate why there was a light on in the old abandoned factory. The gang had found Smith first, however, and now here they were.

 

 

Smith looked fascinated but more than a little scared as he scanned the giant room. Deceptively lighthearted music echoed through the cavernous chamber from an old stereo sitting against a wall lined with sharp tools. It was currently playing Santo and Johnny’s “Sleep Walk”.

 

 

There were piles of various drugs on the coffee table in front of them, and Smith’s brows knit helplessly as he looked from the table to Chief. He studied the older man as he tried to guess what he was going to do about their situation to get them out of it. When Chief arched a brow at him and sighed, the kid actually smiled around his gag large enough for his eye to squint.

 

 

Chief was a little offended that the gang hadn’t seen them as enough of a threat to bind their hands behind their backs, nor did they anchor them in place. He looked down at his hands and tried again to start working the ropes loose. It wasn’t working. He shifted his feet, but it was only making his ankles chafe.

 

 

The whole gang, as far as Chief could tell, had left the building, other than a single guy to stand guard out front and the twitchy tweaker who was now moving around the room with far more purpose than Chief wanted to admit. There was a plan for them that didn’t involve a simple bullet to the head. The way the toothless, sore-covered, strung-out goon kept stopping to stare down at Smith wasn’t comforting.

 

 

The guy disappeared behind them for another moment, and then Chief hissed when he felt a needle slide into his skin. He blinked rapidly as he realized the guy had just given him a large dose of some kind of drug; possibly heroine. That meant that he wanted all the fight out of him.

 

 

Smith whimpered and leaned back on the couch as the guy came to stand in front of him with a needle. The kid sighed gratefully when the guy shifted his attention to look over his head as if someone had entered, and he pulled the needle back away from him.

 

 

“Right. I got it right here.” He turned and picked up a ridiculously large bag of cocaine before moving out of their sight. He then proceeded to talk to the newcomer about the gang’s current agenda. The new guy didn’t say much, only humming in a disinterested way as he went on.

 

 

Smith looked to Chief who was blinking groggily and shaking his head as he tried to stay in reality. Smith helplessly dropped his attention to the floor as he fought to steady his breathing. He gazed at the coffee table leg as he desperately tried to think of his own daring plan, but he wasn’t coming up with much.

 

 

A pair of combat boots stepped leisurely into his view. Smith’s eye slowly traveled up the legs, taking in the completely unhurried and relaxed body language as he went, until his attention landed on Christian’s face. The priest crammed another bite of a Twinkie in his mouth and chewed slowly as he looked down at him with a frown that darkened further when Smith’s features lit up with hope.

 

 

The kid made an urgent low noise that sounded suspiciously like “Help.”

 

 

_Well, isn’t that just fucking adorable?_ Christian’s eyes darted to Chief, and he relished it when a wave of awareness crossed the man as he looked at him.

 

 

 “What are you gonna do with these two?” Christian’s voice sounded even more disinterested than before he’d bothered to speak to the goon at all. He watched Chief to drink in every ounce of his upset while the guy explained what the plan was for them.

 

 

“Tommy wants to teach the cops in town a lesson about minding their own business. They’re all gone right now, except the guy you saw out front, so I’m gonna have some fun with this one while I wait for ‘em to get back. When there’s more of us and we can better control the bigger one, they’re gonna let him wake up and have a little party with baby boy, here, while they make him watch.”

 

 

Christian hummed. “Gonna kill ‘em?”

 

 

“Nah. That would defeat the purpose. Tommy wants to terrorize them. Like I said. Teach ‘em a lesson.”

 

 

Christian nodded as he held Chief’s hazy stare. Chief’s expression was now flashing with fear and desperation as he slowly ran the words through his head and they began to really sink in. Christian’s eyes shifted back to Smith when the kid’s shivering became violent enough to draw his attention. The priest glared at Smith with thick loathing as the kid mewled and pulled his hands into his own chest in terror.

 

 

Then Christian shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. I’m outta here.”

 

 

Smith’s shoulders fell as he turned along the couch to watch Christian leave. Once he disappeared through the doorway, the kid whipped his head back to the goon who was now at the coffee table fumbling with the needle again. Smith looked to Chief. He was slumped down, and his head fell back heavily as he failed again to stay with it.

 

 

Smith was trying his best to reason with the predator in front of him around the cloth in his mouth. The goon dropped the needle and cursed as he knelt down to pick it up. Smith hopped closer to Chief’s body as he leaned back away from his aggressor. He turned his head into the other cop’s shoulder to hide.

 

 

The guy’s toothless mouth curled into an ill-intentioned smirk. “Well, isn’t that fucking cute?” He forced Smith to look at him and pressed an arm along his legs when Smith unconsciously started to raise his knees to try and put some distance between them. Smith sobbed as he lifted the needle, but then the guy’s attention shifted just over Smith’s shoulder. It was the last thing he ever did.

 

 

Smith screamed in horror as the goon’s brains exploded out along the table behind him and his body collapsed lifelessly. He kept screaming as someone hopped over the back of the couch to land heavily in a seated position right next to him. He was still screaming when Christian leaned down to cut his ankles free. Christian’s arm was covered in blood from where he’d slit the guard’s throat.

 

 

Christian grabbed the back of the kid’s shirt and yanked him onto his back in his lap to look down at him. Smith clearly recognized him, but he still wasn’t sure what was happening. Christian pulled the gag free and crammed his mouth on his to swallow the screams until the kid finally gargled into more confused keening against the intrusion of the tongue exploring his mouth.

 

 

Smith gasped for breath when Christian pulled back to look at him. “You...you saved us! I knew it! You’re a real c-”

 

 

“Don’t say I’m a cuck, or I’ll leave you here to try and get this asshole out on your own before the rest of the guys get back and tear up your tight little ass.” Christian threatened him, but his heart was swelling with an uncomfortable warmth as the kid looked at him in awe like he was a goddamn hero or something.

 

 

Christian cut his arms free and then ignored him while he found a messenger bag and stuffed it with just enough cocaine to look like they’d been annoyingly robbed after the cops had managed to escape, but not enough to send them on a manhunt to try and figure out who was behind it. He sighed with irritation over how much he had to abandon because he didn’t want the bags with brains and skull flecks all over them. He put the messenger bag over his shoulder and shoved Smith out of the way to lean down over Chief.

 

 

“Hey, old man.” Christian patted against his face, and Chief’s eyes widened dramatically before rolling back again. “Hey.” Christian snapped his fingers. “Stay with me, Chief.” He was apparently on a first name basis now, though he wasn’t sure how that had happened. “You want me to get you outta here?” He snarled in satisfaction when Chief nodded after feverishly glancing to Smith. “Then we don’t have much time. Let’s just skip to the part where you beg me to fuck you.” He tugged the gag free, and Chief gulped in air as he growled in frustration over Christian’s demand.

 

 

Chief’s head rolled to look at Smith’s hopeful expression. He clenched his eyes shut and open again repeatedly to try and blink away the haze. It was clear he wasn’t going anywhere without help, and the ridiculously loyal kid wasn’t about to leave him there, even to go get help. Chief shivered with rage as he looked back to Christian. The priest loosened Chief’s tie as if he was doing him a favor, and then he tilted his head as if he had all the time in the world as he watched Chief’s lips.

 

 

Chief’s head lolled back again, and the way he laboriously exhaled his words while under the influence went straight to Christian’s cock. “F-fuck me.” He swallowed heavily, and holy hell it was beautiful. “Please...fuck...me...” He jerked when Christian pat his shoulder as if he’d done a good job.

 

 

“Alright kid. Grab his legs.” Christian grunted as he maneuvered behind the couch and hooked his arms around his chest. “Move, move, move...” He encouraged as the threat of discovery loomed over their heads.

 

 

When they reached a van, Christian sat Chief on the ground and banged his fist on the door. He pointed at Smith to direct him to stay put as the window rolled down. He called into the van. “Put your mask on.”

 

 

“Chr-” Clairvoyance barely stopped himself from cursing Christian’s name. “What the hell are you doing? Why did you kill the guard? What happened in there?” Christian was opening the sliding door and they were lifting Chief inside. “I don’t want to be a part of hostage bullshit-”

 

 

“They’re not hostages.” Christian grumbled. “They’re cops.”

 

 

“WHAT THE FUCK, CHR-UGH! NO!”

 

 

“I’m helping them, asshole!” Christian slammed the door after climbing into the back after them. “Now go before we fucking die! Head to Central Park. We’ll drop them off there and be done with it.” He looked to Smith. “And then you call an ambulance. You need to make sure they didn’t overdose him.”

 

 

Smith nodded happily as he continued to worship Christian even though he was digging through Chief’s coat for his wallet and robbing him. He crammed the wallet back in Chief’s pocket and cut his legs free. He hesitated before freeing his wrists, but in the end he did so because it seemed the man was so out of it that it couldn’t possibly matter.

 

 

Christian glared at Smith for several moments before he grabbed his shirt and ripped the top few buttons away to expose his shoulder. Smith sank down, but he remained fairly trusting even when Christian turned the blade of his knife to his skin.

 

 

“Be still, kid. It’ll only hurt a second.”

 

 

Smith looked away and tried not to squirm as Christian quickly carved a heart just below his collarbone so that Chief could easily see it and remember him while he fucked the kid. He hummed darkly at his handywork before he pushed Smith away.

 

 

“Is this like...a club tattoo?” Smith beamed now that the pain of receiving the mark was over with. The kid seemed fucking proud of it. “I’m in your gang now?”

 

 

“Sure, kid. But don’t tell any of your cop buddies about that other than the old man here.” Christian straddled Chief. “Fuck he smells so fucking good. Why the fuck does he always smell so goddamn good?” He ignored the way Chief’s fists violently clutched onto his shirt when he realized he was sitting on him, and he leaned in to inhale deeply several times.

 

 

“I know!” Smith buzzed as if all was right in the world. “He sure does smell great!”

 

 

Clairvoyance swerved as he looked over his shoulder. “Don’t you do it! Don’t you rape a guy in my van! I swear to god! There’d better not be anything like that for me to have to clean up!”

 

 

Christian ran his face along the stubble down Chief’s jaw. “Relax. I don’t have fucking time. We’re close to the park.”

 

 

“And why do you keep taking your eyes off this one?” Clairvoyance motioned to Smith as his paranoia took over. “He’s got an eye patch and is acting as innocent as the day he was born! There are so many red flags coming off this guy, I can’t even begin to list them off!”

 

 

Christian jolted when Chief’s hand clamped around his throat, but then the man violently yanked him over to force his mouth on him. Christian’s eyes went wide as a small noise of confusion escaped him. Chief didn’t seem to have any real idea of what he was doing as he only growled in response to the sound and masterfully deepened the kiss.

 

 

Something about Clairvoyance’s words were clanking around in Christian’s skull. He was now trying to divide his attention between Smith still grinning at him and Chief somehow managing to make Christian’s body start threatening to go all fucking submissive on him. Chief’s other hand landed firmly on his ass and he thrust up against the priest while making this dangerously hungry groan into Christian’s mouth.

 

 

Christian’s muscles weren’t listening to him anymore. He gave into hovering his mouth where Chief wanted him as the man dominated his mouth and led their movements from underneath him. Christian was still trying to convince himself he had everything under control when Chief flipped him onto his back and rolled on top of him.

 

 

Christian drew his gun, but Chief was completely out of his mind. He didn’t even feel it pressing against his temple before his mouth landed right back on the priest’s. Christian started to call out in protest, but then Chief’s hand was back on his throat and Christian fucking whimpered helplessly instead as he dropped the gun.

 

 

“Um...Chief?” Smith whispered low, but the man was too far gone.

 

 

Christian’s heart skipped as Chief hooked a hand under his thigh and pushed his leg up before firmly rolling his hips against him. His mouth had yet to leave him, and Chief seemed primally pleased with all the confused grunts and whimpers he was drinking down. Christian’s hands clawed out around him, but he wasn’t sure what he was searching for; possibly something to anchor himself to so he could pull himself out from under the cop. Christian was further confused when his hand managed to land on Smith’s leg, and the kid gently fucking clasped his hand as if that could have possibly been what he’d wanted.

 

 

“What the-” Clairvoyance turned to investigate the sounds thinking that Christian was ignoring him.

 

 

Christian cursed as he finally managed to tear his mouth away. His voice came out sounding clearly distressed as Chief’s mouth moved to his neck instead. “I could use a little h-h-help, here! N-NOW PLEASE!”

 

 

“HOLY SHIT!” Clairvoyance panicked as he threw the van in park and scrambled out the door. He tore open the side door and barely caught his tin foil hat as it tried to slide off with the motion.

 

 

Smith chuckled nervously. “I don’t think Chief feels too good!”

 

 

Clairvoyance pointed at Smith. “See! That shit! He’s doing that kind of shit!”

 

 

Christian was in tears now as he failed to figure out why the fuck he was just taking this. “PLEASE! F-F-FUCKING PLEASE!”

 

 

Clairvoyance kept his eyes on Smith as he stepped up into the van and flung his arms around Chief’s waist. Christian clumsily sat up and plastered himself against the far wall as Clairvoyance dragged the man off him. Clairvoyance whined with distrust when Smith moved to help him get Chief out of the van and down into the grass of the park. The priest gaped after them in shock. Chief didn’t fight it as he was pulled to safety. Instead his eyes rolled back, and his arms hung limp.

 

 

“C-call an ambulance.” Christian reminded Smith as Clairvoyance rushed to get back behind the wheel. Chief was motionless on the ground now as Smith waved to Christian cheerfully and nodded that he would do what he said. The criminal frowned hatefully and flipped him off, but the kid was still waving and smiling as Christian slammed the door.

 

 

Christian stayed in the van long after Clairvoyance had gone into their hideout, which Clairvoyance had brought them to this time, far out in the woods.  Christian thought it was a good place for a retirement from crime. He was glad Clairvoyance seemed to agree that he hadn’t actually just broken into another crime spree, and instead it had truly been a case of wrong place at the wrong time. He’d commended him for saving the cops. Christian wondered how much of all that he was relaying to Bart inside the house now.

 

 

It wasn’t long before the concerned artist came to check on him. He slid the door closed behind him and sat next to Christian as the criminal stared at his own shaking hands in disbelief.

 

 

Bart’s voice was soothing. “Do you want to talk about it, Christian?” His fingers feathered along the red mark that Chief had sucked into the priest’s neck.

 

 

Christian didn’t look away from his hands. His voice was as distant as his eyes. “Fuck me.” He swallowed heavily. “Bart. Fuck me.”

 

 

“Oh...oh...okay.” Bart glanced around the van insecurely. “You want to go inside?”

 

 

“No. Here. Now.”

 

 

“I’ll g-go get some lubrica-” Bart hesitated when Christian kicked his own pants off desperately. He yelped when Christian grabbed his shirt and fell back, pulling the artist over top of him to land between his thighs.

 

 

“Don’t need it. Fuck me. Bart. I need it. Hard. Do it.” Christian pulled him down to kiss him as he tore open Bart’s pants and pushed them down only enough to expose him.

 

 

Bart’s eyes were wide, but they got wider when Christian leaned away and spit in his hand before reaching down to twist his hand along his cock.

 

 

“Focus, baby.” Christian pleaded with him sounding more than a little desperate as he lined the artist up and pressed down around him. “I want you to be rough with me. Make me your bitch. Fuck me.”

 

 

Bart whimpered, but then he was pinning Christian’s hands over his head and shoving his cock the rest of the way inside him with a violent snap of his hips.

 

 

“F-fuck, y-yeah!” Christian’s head fell back as Bart pulled halfway out of him before slamming forward again. The artist’s breaths were insecure, but his movements were playing the whole thing off more than enough for Christian to get lost in the sensations as he continued to steadily drive into him.

 

 

Christian had to wonder if Clairvoyance had told Bart exactly what he’d seen when he’d looked back into the van, because Bart hoisted Christian’s leg up and angled down to his throat. His mouth was working along his neck like he was possessively determined to make his own marks erase the present one.

 

 

Bart was only holding one arm over his head now, and Christian couldn’t stop himself from dropping his hand to stroke his cock. Fuck it if he was already there. He’d just come again if Bart needed to keep going. He couldn’t take this tension anymore, and the artist was making him feel so fucking owned and free at the same time.

 

 

“D-don’t s-stop-” Christian’s voice stuttered as Bart continued to pump into him. “Gonna c-come...fffuck! FUCK!” His entire body clenched up as he was force-fucked over the edge.

 

 

He was reminded that it was Bart’s first time ever being inside a warm body when the artist immediately thrust into him and stilled with his release upon feeling the body around him climax. Christian was impressed, then, that the artist had held out even that long.

 

 

“W-was that...” Bart’s chest heaved from the effort. “T-too much? Did I hurt you?”

 

 

“No.” Christian melted beneath him, and his chest rumbled humorously. “No. That was good. Fuck. Really good.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Christian grumbled under his breath as he hoisted the ax over his head and brought it down with a heavy thud. He tossed the firewood into the wheelbarrow and reached for the last piece.

 

 

He mocked Bart’s voice as he steered the wood over beneath the awning by the house and dumped it with the rest. “Isn’t a blazing fire so romantic, Christian? I just love how it inspires me!” Christian scoffed as if he could ever get enough of Bart’s theatrics. “As long as it keeps inspiring your pants right off.”

 

 

He swiped his hand across his forehead before checking to make sure the moisture under his nose was sweat and not another nosebleed. He glanced down his bare chest to check for any other injuries he might have missed while on a cocaine-fueled wood-chopping binge. He was going to be alone for two days while Bart and Clairvoyance were off doing some...thing. Probably something to do with art or something. He didn’t want to miss the fact he was bleeding out over some stupid mistake.

 

 

Christian hefted the ax out of the stump and headed towards the crumbling old barn. He was tired and far too dirty for Bart not to know about it if he went to sleep in their bed before showering. He was considering taking another nap in the barn.

 

 

The people who’d owned the property before, which Clairvoyance explained had left for some crazy reason that had to do with the government, had owned a couple of horses. There were far more stalls than they’d had animals, so most of them were empty. Two stalls were full of trampled hay and dried horse shit, but one stall just had a cushy bunch of fresh hay. Christian had tossed a blanket in there the last time Bart had told him he was too filthy to get in the bed. It had been perfect for drug-fueled comas ever since. Though, he might ought to think about washing that blanket at some point soon.

 

 

He made his way into the shadows of the looming structure. He had barely stepped out of the light from the setting sun when he froze, because he _knew_. He just knew that goddamn cop was there, and the cop hadn’t even moved. He hadn’t made a sound.

 

 

Christian didn’t turn around. He was unarmed other than an ax, which wouldn’t do him much good in a gunfight. He sighed heavily because the cop had to know that he was unarmed, and now he had to know that Christian knew he was there. The priest was just standing there clutching the handle of the ax with white knuckles while his shoulders refused to stop heaving hard enough to give it away that he was spooked by the turn of events.

 

 

Christian’s voice came out steadier than he’d expected. “That’s some fancy leg work you musta done to find me there, Chief.”

 

 

“How’d you know it was me? Christian.”

 

 

_Fuck._ A visible shudder ran down Christian’s spine at hearing his name from Chief’s voice. “I can fucking smell you, old man.” How much did he know? How long had he been staking him out? And why the fuck weren’t a dozen cops rushing him right now and throwing him to the ground?

_Oh, shit._

 

 

He wasn’t there to arrest him. He was there to kill him.

 

 

“Where’s your little puppy?” _God, please say he’s got that kid with him_. He wouldn’t murder Christian in front of that kid.

 

 

“That’s none of your concern.”

 

 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_. “You’re acting a little shady. Chief. You going rogue now? Tired of the law failing you?”

 

 

 Christian didn’t need to jump to conclusions. He slowly turned toward him, but he wasn’t comforted by the stern set of Chief’s jaw as he watched him from where he was so casually leaning back against the wall. He was giving Christian that look that said Christian had clearly been bad and someone needed to reprimand him. He didn’t answer Christian, and it was unnerving as he continued to aim that penetrating stare at him.

 

 

“So, you get my love notes?”

 

 

Chief wasn’t amused. The gun made a gentle metallic noise at his side as he readied it in response. Christian swallowed heavily and couldn’t stop his lids from closing briefly as he shivered.

 

 

“Look, old man. Take it easy. You don’t want to do this.”

 

 

“You’re not going to hurt the kid.”

 

 

“Maybe it’s not the kid I was after. You think of that?”

 

 

Chief’s jaw moved ever so slightly as he ground his teeth. “Why?”

 

 

“Why, what?” Christian frowned as if it should be obvious. “Why did a good cop fuck with a psychopath’s head and then get himself some unwanted attention? What did you expect?”

 

 

“You’re not going to hurt that kid.”

 

 

“Sure. Whatever you say, old man.”

 

 

“You’d better take this more seriously.” Chief’s eyes said there was something dirty that needed to be done, and he was just man enough to see that job through.

 

 

“So, you’re here to put down the rabid dog, then?”

 

 

Christian had to admit that he was scared. It wasn’t the thought of death that was bothering him so bad, but the fact that it was going to hurt his feelings something fierce if Chief was the one who killed him. Christian had developed a respect for the man, and that kid had wormed his way into the cop’s head enough to make Chief force himself to consider whether or not Christian was salvageable. That somehow made Christian wonder if he was redeemable. If Chief killed him, that would mean that Chief truly believed that Christian was beyond any hope of redemption. Christian would believe him, and he’d die with that being his last realization.

 

 

Chief didn’t answer him. He just looked down to the ax. His eyes lingered there as he took note of how violently Christian’s hand was shaking.

 

 

“Stop staring at me, old man!” Christian pointed at him with the ax.

 

 

Chief wasn’t fazed. The man loosened his tie before he threw his goddamn gun to the side. He then proceeded to peel his coat off and roll up his sleeves while he stared Christian down like he was planning on punishing him good.

 

 

“Bad move, Chief!” Christian lifted the ax and lunged forward.

 

 

“Drop it!” Chief growled without so much as flinching.

 

 

Christian’s eyes were wide as he stood frozen only a few feet away from the cop. He looked to his quaking hand in disbelief. He had fucking dropped the ax. He looked back to Chief with questioning terror as if the man might explain what had just happened. Christian took a few steps back, and then he clenched his eyes shut and rattled his head.

 

 

When he opened his eyes, Chief had moved closer. Christian panicked and began stumbling back away from him desperately. He felt completely lost without his gun, and he wound up pointing at the cop as if it could have the same effect. “Stay out of my head!”

 

 

“Stop backing away.” Chief’s stare was determined and unforgiving. When Christian kept moving, he added, “You’d better listen to me, or you’ll get hurt.”

 

 

Christian froze on instinct. His legs felt glued to the spot. He whined in frustration as Chief took his time approaching him while Christian’s feet continued to rebel against him and stay put. What Chief was saying didn’t make sense. He was there to kill him, and he clearly meant to take his time doing it, so why would he throw out something that insinuated Christian wouldn’t get hurt if he listened to him?

 

 

Chief held Christian’s panicking stare, and he slowed as he reached him. The man held one arm out palm-up like some kind of peace offering to a scared dog.

 

 

 “Come this way.”

 

 

Christian shook his head in denial as if he had to do so to convince his own brain to deny the cop. Chief made a short noise of admonishment when Christian’s body leaned like he might take another step back.

 

 

“You don’t want to do that.”

 

 

Christian’s very soul was petrified now as he kept fucking standing in place while the cop stepped up to him and slowly, ever so slowly, rested his hand on his side.

 

 

“This way.” Chief pressed against Christian’s side gently but firmly as he took a wide step to the side. “There you go. Alright. Now, go on. You were backing up, and you were about to tell me what I wanted to hear.” Chief let go, and when Christian didn’t move, Chief suddenly slammed a hand against his chest and aggressively shoved him back against the wall.

 

 

“What the fuck?! W-what the f-fuck?” Christian turned his head to the side when he caught sight of something in his peripheral jutting out from the wall just to the side of his shoulder. It was a metal bar that had been broken into a deadly, jagged point. Christian’s heart dropped as his hands began to feel along his body to see if Chief had just impaled him on another one. If he hadn’t, that meant that he’d just saved Christian from killing himself, and that didn’t make sense.

 

 

Christian looked back to Chief as his entire body quaked. Chief was waiting for something. He’d wanted Christian to say something. What did he want to hear? “Th-thank you f-for you service, officer? I l-love you?” That probably wasn’t it. _Fuck_. Chief ground his jaw as he hummed negatively. Christian tried again. The guy clearly needed revenge, so he must be looking to put Christian where the criminal had him before. “F-fuck. P-please f-fuck me? I w-want you to f-fuck me?”

 

 

Chief arched a brow high. He was pleased with it, but he hadn’t known that it was something he wanted to hear. “About the kid, Christian. Tell me you’re not going to hurt the kid.”

 

 

Christian released a shuddering sigh. He couldn’t even focus clearly enough to be embarrassed about scrambling far too desperately to give the cop whatever he wanted. “I w-won’t hurt him, old man. I swear I won’t hurt him. I wouldn’t have raped him. I was stopping. I’m down with dubious consent and all, but that...that flipped right into clear rape territory, and I was losing my hardon. Thought for a second there you were going to call my bluff.” He clenched his eyes as he wondered why he had added all that to his assurance. “I was just trying to get to you. That’s all. The blood on the paper...the cut...it was all to f-fuck with you.”

 

 

“Why?” Chief didn’t sound as curious as he should have been. It sounded far more like he already knew the answer and he just wanted Christian to ask himself.

 

 

After all, Chief had seen this type before many times. He’d been around the block a time or two. This was a clear case of a kid rebelling to get any kind of paternal attention so they could feel the rush of someone giving a fuck enough to punish them for it. The more run-ins he had with the priest, the more obvious this whole thing had become. He wasn’t sure what Christian’s main driving motive was for his current lifestyle, but the way he was dancing with Chief, personally, had the overwhelming aura of a kid with daddy issues that needed to work out some tension.

 

 

Chief could assume that Christian was perfectly aware he was being bad. Christian expected the whole world to scream that fact to his face. There had been something different about Chief and Smith that had gotten under the criminal’s skin, though, and had made him listen to what they had to say. Chief was sure it had something to do with Smith. The kid believed that there was good in Christian, and instead of going through with hurting Smith beyond repair to prove him wrong, the criminal’s nature kept glitching to cater to Smith’s image that there was hope for him.

 

 

That’s why he had been so hard on Chief. He didn’t want to break Smith, he wanted Chief to believe Smith so that Christian could believe Smith. Christian would never be able to believe what he was hearing from Smith’s mouth, though, because he needed to hear it from someone like Chief.

 

 

Christian was still struggling to answer the question to himself. “I d-don’t know, old man! Just to fuck with you, is all!” He sucked in a breath when Chief pushed him harder against the wall. Christian’s eyes darted to the metal bar as he was reminded he’d almost been killed. How was the cop doing that? How was he holding him there with his stare alone like he was holding a gun to his head? “I won’t hurt the kid. I swear it.”

 

 

Chief’s hand flattened more fully on the priest’s stomach, and he stroked him in a soothing way. “That’s a good boy.”

 

 

“W-w-what the fuck?” Christian’s scowl didn’t quite have the effect he was going for when his entire being was jolting at the words. “F-f-fuck you, old man!”

 

 

“Watch how you talk to me.” Chief’s hand slid up to Christian’s throat.

 

 

The priest seized up stiff. The grip was firm, but gentle. There was no pain. _Oh, god._ He was touching him and there was no pain. The priest was greatly regretting his decision to fuck with this guy, or maybe he was thanking the fates that he _had_ crossed the man so bad. He couldn’t really be sure. Either way, Christian was nodding weakly like there was any real possibility of him watching his mouth like Chief had demanded. Christian’s eyes darted down to Chief’s hand as he further loosened his tie and unclasped a button.

 

 

When he looked back up to his face, Chief was tilting his head, leaning in, and looking at Christian’s mouth. Christian’s head thudded against the wall as his frown completely melted away and his eyes went wide with uncertainty. Chief let go of his tie and rested his hand on the wall just over Christian’s head. The dominant posture was more potent than anything else Christian could have imagined him doing to intimidate him. The priest’s heart was hammering violently in his chest, and he was erratically gulping in air that smelled good. So. Fucking. Unbelievably. Good. Holy fuck did the guy smell so fucking clean.

 

 

“Easy.” Chief coaxed as he feathered his thumb along Christian’s neck. The criminal was acting like Chief was about to stab him rather than kiss him. His pupils were huge as he tried to figure the cop out, and Chief knew it wasn’t just the cocaine making him so twitchy and alert. “Easy...”

 

 

The cop was so close now that Christian could all but taste the whiskey on his breath. His back was itching from where his body kept pressing against the rough surface behind him as he unconsciously wriggled with emotional discomfort, and he tried to focus on that to keep himself together.

 

 

“There you go.” Chief’s lips were barely grazing his now, and the praise caused Christian to make a strangled little noise.

 

 

When Christian spoke, his lips moved against his, and Chief ran his mouth more fully along Christian’s bottom lip to distract him. “If you’re going to kill me after-” Chief’s teeth gently nipped his lip before releasing him to speak again, and Christian’s eyes rolled back as he shuddered. “After this. Put my clothes back on me, w-would you? D-don’t leave me here for...for _him_ to find. Like that.”

 

 

Chief hummed like he was pleased with him. “That’s awfully considerate of you to think about someone else so nice.” He pressed his lips firmly against him as Christian whined at his words. “But I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.”

 

 

He’d just called him kid. _Oh, holy fucking god!_ He’d just called him kid. Christian’s mouth fell open as he groaned like Chief had just said the dirtiest thing he’d ever heard in his life. Chief slid his tongue in his mouth, and Christian hadn’t known he could make such a needy sound until he was already whining against the warmth now massaging the inside of his mouth.

 

 

Chief’s fingers squeezed gently on his throat as he deepened the kiss. Christian’s lids flew open, but he found himself staring toward the ceiling like he was sincerely concerned heaven might open up and strike him down right there on the spot for daring to feel something so soft and so completely forbidden to him.

 

 

Chief delicately pulled away to look at him when his stuttering breaths eventually made it clear he’d started to cry in confusion. The criminal’s eyes were darting around all over the place like he was looking for a hidden camera to explain what the actual fuck was happening. It was all a big joke. That was it.

 

 

“You’re alright. Christian. Breathe.” Chief’s hand dropped down to start doing that soothing circle thing on his stomach again. “Breathe.”

 

 

“I c-can’t...” Christian was hyperventilating as he searched Chief’s eyes. “I can’t handle this. Just...just...” Christian’s hands fumbled violently with his belt as the cop allowed him another few seconds to try and form a coherent thought.

 

 

“What the hell have you been through, kid?”

 

 

Christian couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand the heat of his full attention as Chief tried to read his pained features. Christian whirled around to face the wall and moved to press his pants open. Chief’s hands were back on him, then, stopping him from shoving his pants down and pulling him back against his body in a bear hug instead. This prevented his hands from bracing on the wall or anything else that might indicate he was about to get so impersonally fucked from behind. Christian cursed his lack of shirt when Chief’s mouth landed so gently along his shoulders to kiss along his skin in a comforting gesture. Christian jerked as he tried to break the hold, but Chief only tightened his arms around him.

 

 

“No.” Chief returned to kissing across his shoulders and the back of neck when Christian obediently stopped struggling at the simple command. “This is what you wanted, kid. This is what you’re gonna get.”

 

 

“W-watch it up here, old man.” Christian’s eyes were on the protruding metal that was now centered dangerously over his heart. He cursed himself for so conveniently maneuvering himself right into place.

 

 

Then they were moving, and for a heart stopping moment Christian’s swimming mind didn’t process that Chief was walking backwards with him instead of mercifully ramming him forward. He closed his eyes, and his head spun as he tripped along in whatever direction Chief was so carefully guiding him.

 

 

“You’re alright. I got you.” Chief’s breath was hot against his skin as he took him to the stall where Christian had been considering sleeping before.

 

 

“Knock it off with that sh-shit!” Christian didn’t sound like he was at all sure he wanted Chief to stop assuring him that he was okay. He was wondering how Chief knew where to drag him off to and concluding that the crazy bastard had been watching him for no telling how long.

 

 

Christian was highly doubting any of this could be real. His mind was wound so tight he was about to snap, and he planted his combat boots firmly in the ground just as they reached the blanket. Chief’s hand drifted up to his throat, and Christian’s thoughts spun into further chaos when both his hands clung to that arm without trying to pull it away like it was a comfort rather than a threat.

 

 

“Stop thinking so much.” Chief hummed this into his ear as he flattened his other palm against Christian’s stomach and began to slowly glide it downwards. “Easy...”

 

 

Christian stopped wriggling, and he sucked in his stomach as he tensed at the touch.

 

 

“There you go.”

 

 

Chief’s fingers dipped beneath the elastic of Christian’s underwear. The priest’s head fell back onto Chief’s shoulder as he stared again right through the ceiling into the heavens. They both groaned as Chief’s hand found him. He curled his fingers around his length and began to stroke him firmly and steadily. Christian stopped fighting him and gave into the sensation. His body became progressively more lax as Chief continued to work on him while planting encouraging kisses in the bend of his neck.

 

 

“See. Like this.” Chief ran his lips along his ear, and Christian shivered completely. “That’s a good boy.”

 

 

Christian moaned in abandon as his knees gave out. Chief’s hands rushed to grab him in time, and he stepped forward to help lower him to the blanket. Christian was clutching at his heart as he tried to process the unfamiliar feelings, and in his distraction, he allowed Chief to press him to lie on his back. Chief knelt at his feet, and Christian stared at him, breathless and bewildered, as the cop gently picked up one of his feet and began to untie his shoes with all the patience in the world.

 

 

Christian swallowed heavily as Chief pulled the boot away from his foot with far too much consideration. “W-what’s your deal anyway, old man? You c-can’t just...just fuck a guy fast and cruel or something?”

 

 

Chief’s eyes shifted to a place on the wall over Christian’s head. “Keep running that mouth of yours and you’ll find out.”

 

 

Christian tilted his head up and he actually fucking whimpered. There was a riding crop up there. His eyes shot back down to Chief as if the man might have magically summoned it into his hands while his eyes weren’t on him. He wasn’t brandishing any weapons other than a hard stare that said Christian definitely deserved a goddamn spanking.

 

 

Christian looked away, and his hands tangled in the blanket, but he didn’t say anything else shitty. Chief took his body language to mean that pain wasn’t what Christian was looking for from him. The criminal didn’t want to be punished for the things he’d done. There was more to him than that. He wanted to be good, and he was responding to praise in a way Chief had to admit was pretty addictive to witness.

 

 

Chief sat the other boot next to the first one and reached up to tug Christian’s pants down his legs. Christian hid his face in his hand while massaging away a headache that, for once, really wasn’t there. He just couldn’t look at the guy while he was being so careful and watching him so intently for every sign of what Christian might need.

 

 

Christian only dared a quick glance up when he heard Chief unclasping his own pants. He only pushed them open rather than moving to take them off. Of course, he wasn’t going to take any of his clothes off while Christian was lying in front of him bare-ass naked. That might break the dominant spell or something as if it wasn’t already humiliatingly clear enough that Christian was being the bitch here.

 

 

When Christian felt the cop’s mouth on his thigh, he gave up trying to be subtle about hiding and clasped both his hands over his face. “Fucking fuck, old man. You’re gonna fucking kill me. This is literally going to make my fucking heart stop. Just get to-OH GOD FUCK-” He arched up when Chief flattened his tongue against his cock.

 

 

Christian’s hands flew down to hover over the cop’s head when he barely stopped himself from touching him. He thought better of it and clenched the covers instead as the man took him in his mouth for only a blissfully torturous few seconds before he continued up his body. Christian panted as the room spun around him.

 

 

Just when he thought he was beginning to see straight again, Chief was dipping his face into his neck and rolling his hips against him to create this agonizing friction. Christian didn’t even realize he was holding his hands up in surrender until Chief commented on the ring on his finger now at his eye-level.

 

 

“That a wedding band?”

 

 

“What the fuck does it matter?”

 

 

“That artist?”

 

 

“M-mind your own goddamn business, old man...”

 

 

“Seems like a good kid.” Chief kissed along his jaw. “Bet you keep him safe.”

 

 

Holy fuck was he approving of his goddamn relationship? Did this guy take Daddy Issues 101 or something? “Look, f-fuck you. I don’t fucking care if you approve of my relationship.”

 

 

“Yeah, you do.” Chief crammed two fingers into the priest’s mouth just short of making him gag.

 

 

“Wutwafwuck?” Christian scowled but sucked obediently as Chief swiped his fingers around in his mouth like he was trying to get them as wet as possible.

_Wait a minute. He’s not going to_ -

 

 

Christian gasped when Chief yanked his fingers out and sat back on his heels. “Y-you d-don’t have to do all that! I d-don’t n-need-” He whined as Chief stroked far too gently along his entrance before holding eye contact while he eased a single finger inside him. “R-really! I’m not gonna break, old man! You don’t have to be so c-careful...” He hissed when Chief didn’t waste any time in exploring to find the right spot on his insides. 

 

 

“Just f-fuck me, already!” Christian was shaking all over as Chief added another finger and immediately angled just right because he was now just that fucking familiar with Christian’s goddamn body. “Jesus please fuck me please...” _Fuck._ Was he crying or just sweating? No, he was fucking crying again.

 

 

“Seems like you’re liking this just fine.” Chief’s eyes were on Christian’s cock as it pulsed painfully hard and leaked continuously.

 

 

“My dick is a filthy fucking liar, old man, and if you don’t fucking-”

 

 

Christian jolted when Chief slapped a hand against his hip to correct his tone. He gulped as he wondered why the fuck that worked to shake him. He’d taken a goddamn punch to the jaw during sex before and didn’t hesitate. Now he was hanging on that cop’s every gesture like he’d fall at his feet if he did something to counter the praise he kept feeding him.

 

 

“Look Ch-” Christian hesitated to say his name in all seriousness. “Chief.” He relaxed when Chief hummed like he’d done the right thing and nodded for him to continue. “Please. You’re killing me. I want you to fu-”

 

 

“Make love to you.”

 

 

“The fuck?”

 

 

“You heard me. Tell me what you really want. You want me to make love to you.”

 

 

Christian lifted his head to look down at him incredulously, but when Chief’s hand stung his skin again, he yelped, and his head fell back heavily. “Okay!” He guessed this was Chief’s way of getting revenge on him for making Chief beg Christian to fuck him. “Ch-chief. Please.” It was eternally hard to think when he kept moving his fingers inside him so maddeningly well. “M-make...make love to me. Please.”

 

 

Chief’s fingers left him, and then Christian covered his face as he felt his hands on his hips as the cop positioned himself to take him. Christian didn’t realize that, because of the tender treatment, he didn’t have to stomach the expected initial pain and shock of rough sex. Chief eased into him, again angling so fucking perfect, and Christian’s back arched as he called out. Chief pulled back and thrust into him again, and then again, and then he was driving into him steady and powerful, but so fucking careful at the same time.

 

 

Christian’s hands clawed out at his sides as his mouth fell open. “Fuck! Oh, god! Fuck!” His glossy eyes stared toward the ceiling as his body jolted in ecstasy with every pulse of the cop’s hips. All the unfamiliar emotions were too much. His breath was hitching from more than just being so masterfully fucked as he began to sob. He cursed. “Chief?” He was so utterly lost. “Chief...”

 

 

“Right here.” Chief assured him breathlessly, and Christian was finally able to look at him. “You’re. Alright.” Chief was sweating and his lids were heavy as he began to lose himself to lust. He was affected by all this. He wanted this. Christian was making him feel good. “You’re. Doing. Good. Kid.” When Christian moaned so pitifully and so beautifully in response, Chief closed his eyes to control himself from finishing.

 

 

Christian didn’t think it could all get any better, but then Chief let go with one hand to grip his cock. Christian’s lips were moving, but he was pretty sure there wasn’t even any sound coming out. Then again, maybe he was talking, because Chief was panting harder between these low, pleased growls, and he was watching Christian’s mouth like that was the cause of it.

 

 

Christian couldn’t take it anymore. It was all too much. His vision blurred and his hand lashed out to grab a hold of Chief’s tie as he begged him to come closer. He wasn’t even surprised anymore when the man did what he asked him so nicely.

 

 

Chief’s arm quaked as he continued to hold himself up while he finished stroking Christian through his release. He was focusing hard not to crush him while lowering his mouth over his, because Christian had leaned up in search of his lips like Chief kissing him would keep him from whatever superstition was biting at his heels and threatening an eternity of retribution for his crimes.

 

 

Christian’s body convulsed around him, and Chief groaned into his mouth as he finally released Christian’s spent length and pushed himself into him a few more times to join him. Christian whimpered in over-stimulation for only a few heartbeats before he moaned when the cop pressed into him and stilled.

 

 

Christian didn’t know when he had made the decision to grope Chief’s ass to encourage him forward. He didn’t let go for far too long after he was finished, though, because Chief kept doing that pleased growling thing for every time he clenched around him inside while squeezing against him on the outside. _Fuck it._ If he was about to die now, he was going to shamelessly relish every last second of this.

 

 

When Chief finally pulled his mouth away, Christian released him and melted out along the blanket beneath him.

 

 

“Remember, old man.” He panted. “Put my clothes back on me.” He pinched his forehead as he gathered himself. “If you’re gonna burn the evidence...” He pointed in the direction of the arsony supplies. “But toss my ring in the doorway over there so it won’t melt, and he’ll know I was in here with the blaze. So he won’t think I took off on him or something, you know? And so he’ll know I’m really gone.”

 

 

“I said I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.” Chief sighed like he was carrying a heavy weight. “And nobody is going to come after you, either, it seems. There’s just no goddamn evidence, you tricky bastard. Even if me and the kid wanted to testify, which we don’t, we got nothing solid. So, I figured I got two choices. I could kill you myself or have this little talk and see if I can believe you when you say you’re not a threat to that kid. So, are you fucking with me, or is he safe?”

 

 

“I won’t hurt him.”

 

 

Chief kissed his forehead. “That’s a good boy.”

 

 

Christian huffed a weak laugh even as he shivered at the words. “What, you want to go again or something?” Chief’s chest rumbled humorously then. “Ah, yeah. I forgot, old man. You probably wouldn’t be able to-” He hiccupped when Chief’s eyes shifted up to the riding crop. “Fuck, I’m just fucking with you, ya cuck.”

 

 

“Oh, god. Not you too.” Chief rolled off him and frowned in an unsuccessful attempt to disguise his smile.

 

 

Christian reached for his pants while the mood was still light in a streetwise instinct to protect his skin from potential abuse. He did a double-take after glancing back to Chief’s relaxed body to see that there was red all long the collar of his shirt.

 

 

“Fuck.” Christian’s nose was bleeding again, and he’d managed to bleed all over the guy at some point during all that. “You know what. I don’t even care.” He fell back to join the cop in staring lifelessly overhead at the last rays of the setting sun peeking through a loose board.

 

 

Christian wasn’t sure when he drifted off, but when he awoke, Chief was gone. He rubbed his groggy eyes, went into the house, chugged two entire glasses of water, snorted some more coke, and went into the bathroom to clean himself. He froze in front of the bathroom mirror and commanded himself not to smile.

 

 

That stupid, sentimental fucking cop had used Christian’s blood to draw a giant heart on his chest. Old man was almost as fucked up as Christian. He’d been all about that game all along. It was a shame he’d have to wash it off. Next time he had a run in with him, he’d be sure to beg him to carve one on him with a blade instead so it would last.

 

 

 

 


End file.
